


let the games begin.

by theangelofletters



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Crossover, Destiel - Freeform, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangelofletters/pseuds/theangelofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Dean Winchester had been in the Hunger Games?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. reaping day.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, in order to keep the Katniss - Peeta type relationship, I had to write Castiel as a girl. Just so you know before you start.

The woods were quiet for this time of day. Normally they would be alive with the chattering of animals, the breeze blowing through the trees – anything. But the animals knew what was coming, they knew better than to try to be happy at the worst time of the year in District 12.

Dean Winchester aimed his arrow at a rabbit perched less than twenty yards away from him and let the arrow fly right through the eye – just like always. He retrieved his kill, took out the arrow, cleaned it, and knocked it back – ready to kill again. Killing animals wasn't exactly something Dean looked forward to every morning, but meat was meat. Sammy had to have food.

He watched the sunlight peek through the trees and looked in the direction she would be coming from. He knew she expected him to be sitting on their rock, but he hadn’t been able to sit still long enough to wait for her and had started hunting in the direction of District 12, hoping she’d bump into him. She was extremely late – that was unusual, but not unheard of. While Dean’s little brother, Sam, was fourteen and could mostly take care of himself, Joanna Harvelle had her eleven year old sister to help her Mom care for before she came to the woods to hunt with Dean.

He was a little glad he’d went ahead and started. He’d already caught three squirrels, two birds, and two rabbits – he hadn’t even checked the snares yet. It would make for a good feast tonight.

Dean heard the crack of leaves and turned, poised and ready to fire… only to see Jo walking into the clearing. He shook his head and put the arrow back in the quiver, “I could’ve killed you, Jo.”

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Busy morning.”

Dean just nodded and offered her a weak smile. “Big day today.”

She tried to smile, but it didn’t work. She just started walking toward the clearing they usually met in. they walked in silence, each taking their side of the large rock that sat at the right edge of the clearing. Dean took off his game bag and split the goods with Jo as she took a piece of bread out of her game bag and offered it to him. “Where did you get this?” he asked.

“Traded the baker for a couple squirrels yesterday before the Demon Peacekeepers showed up.”

He gave her a hard look, “How many?”

Jo shrugged, “One.”

He sighed and put his hand over his nose. Jo whispered, “He just feels sorry for us, you know.”

Dean knew – of course he knew, everyone knew. All of the angel merchants just felt bad for the human families in the district. Dean hated it – humans were generally second-class citizens in Panem, behind every supernatural creature that roamed the country. In the outlying districts it wasn’t as bad, the angels who ran most of the shops were generally nice to humans, but Dean was told that the closer that you got to the Capitol City and President Abaddon, the worse humans were treated.

Even during the Games humans were counted out every year by the Capitol and the people who watched. Dean couldn’t really blame them, it was hard to pick a human to win over the sirens, demons, leviathans, and vampires that made up the Career Districts.

The silence fell easy between Jo and Dean, as it always did. That was probably what Dean liked the most about Jo, she just _understood_ him. She didn’t ask him ‘why’ and ‘why not’ like Sam did, and he didn’t have to take care of her like he did with Sam. She just listened well, had his back in the woods, was a great shot, and laughed at his lame jokes.

But today she wasn’t laughing – neither was Dean.

Because today was Reaping Day.

Sure, it was Dean’s last one, but it still felt like a pit at the bottom of his stomach. This was the last year that he could do _anything_ about the Games. After this, he would be a bystander, unable to volunteer.

“How many slips do you have today?” Jo asked softly.

Dean looked at her and smirked, “Forty something.”

Jo just rolled her eyes, “More than twice what I’ve got.”

Dean shrugged and took another bite of the bread.

“What about Sam?”

Dean stiffened, “Sam has three.”

“I thought you were going to let him take out tesserae?”

Dean just shook his head, “Hopefully he won’t have to. Next year I’ll go into the mines and I should be able to make enough to feed us without it.”

Jo just looked at her feet; Dean put his arm around her, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Jo. If we stick to the code, no one’s gonna go hungry.”

“The code?” Jo giggled. “You sound like a pirate.”

Dean took his arm from around her and covered one eye with his left hand, making his right into a fake hook, “Aye, matey. Be stickin’ to the code and goin’ to the Hob to trade, arrrgghhhhh.”

Jo laughed, “Seriously, Dean. I was 12 years old when we made that pact.”

“And I was 14.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jo replied.

“So what?” Dean asked, leaning back on the rock.

“So I’m just saying maybe it’s time for a different pact. We’re older, we’re not just two dumb kids that are scared our families will starve.”

Dean cut her a glare, “So you’re saying that if one of us is reaped, the other should volunteer and leave both families in the dust? C’mon, Jo. Sammy’s not ready to hunt yet and I’m pretty sure your sister isn’t old enough to start shooting a bow.”

Jo just shrugged, “When do you plan on teaching Sam to hunt?”

“After the Games are over,” Dean answered. “Since this is my last year, he’ll have to fend for himself next year, I want to make sure he’s ready. I just want him to be a kid for a little longer.”

“You know I wouldn’t let him go in alone.”

Dean nodded, “I know. And if that happens, you know I won’t let your family go hungry.”

Jo smiled – they had discussed that series of events _way_ too many times. They fell silent again, listening to the soft sounds the woods made around them.

Jo sighed, “I wish we didn’t have to live here anymore.”

“What, like run away?”

“Yeah,” Jo gave him a shy smile. “Just take off into the woods and don’t look back.”

Dean shrugged, “We could probably do it. We’re the best shots in the district, counting the angels, we certainly wouldn’t go hungry.”

“Let’s go,” Jo said, standing from their rock.

“Now?”

She nodded, smile growing, “Let’s go right now, Dean. Just take off and leave.”

He just looked at her, “We can’t. I’ve got Sammy – you’ve got your mom and Jess. We’d _definitely_ get caught with the kids.”

Jo’s smile faded, “You’re right.”

Dean looked again at the sun, higher in the sky. “Looks like it’s almost time to go back,” he observed. Jo needed plenty of time to help her mother get everybody clean and ready for the Reaping and Dean had to get Sam ready by himself.

Jo sighed, “Do we have to?”

Dean nodded and stood from the rock, taking Jo’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Tonight, we’re gonna look back on this morning and laugh, just like every other year.”

Jo grinned, “Because the odds are _definitely_ in our favor, as always.”

And so they took out their bows and walked back to the district, trading the grins and laughter for grim faces and careful aims, looking for anything with a heartbeat that would taste good in a soup. On the way back, Jo shot two more squirrels before she split the day’s haul with Dean.

They parted ways at the edge of the district, taking great care to make sure they weren’t seen by Demon Peacekeepers. “Meet you at your house?” Jo asked him.

Dean winked, “Wear something pretty.”

He grimly walked back to his house, head down, trying hard to avoid the gaze of anyone else. The Winchester house was smaller in comparison to most of the others in their part of the district, but their family was only him, Sam, and their mother, Mary, so they didn’t need a lot of room.

He opened the door to see Sam sitting in front of the television, watching one of the programs talking about the Reapings in a few hours. “Have you taken your bath yet?”

Sam shook his head, “Mom told me to wait until you got home.”

Dean just nodded, “Go take it now, and hurry, ‘cause I’ve still gotta take mine.”

He turned to his left and started taking the animals out of his game back, skinning them with his silver hunting knife. He took his time, knowing that Sam would take forever to get clean. He sliced the fur from the meat, putting the meat in a bowl for their soup later and saving the fur. Jo’s mother, Ellen, was good at making gloves and things out of the rabbit fur.

He heard a shuffling of feet and looked up to see Mary pulling out a chair. She looked better today than Dean had seen her in years – more color in her cheeks, bags under her eyes less heavy and she had even fixed her hair. “Mom?”

She zoned out. Dean rolled his eyes – she was good at forgetting where she was and what was going on. He didn’t suppose he could blame her, if the love of his life died, he would probably zone out a lot too.

“Mom?” he called again, snapping his fingers in front of her face.

She smiled, “Oh, Dean. You look so much like your father.”

Dean grimaced, she had been bringing that up more and more lately.

She just sighed, “I see so much of him in you, Dean.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“John would be proud of you.”

Dean just nodded – he didn’t really even know what to say. John Winchester had once been a Capitol citizen, a senator even. His intelligence had been respected across Panem – he knew more about every supernatural creature than anyone else in the country. But when he came to 12 to study on angels, he had met Mary Campbell and fell in love, marrying her and having Sam and Dean. But before Dean’s fourteenth birthday, John had been killed in a mining accident – the same one that claimed Jo’s dad.

So Dean had stepped up, he had taken tesserae and applied what his dad had taught him about hunting the supernatural to hunting animals. It had been rough for the first few months, but Dean had managed to keep them fed.

Sam came into the kitchen, hair freshly combed and wearing a shirt and pants that used to belong to Dean. They were baggier than Dean had anticipated, he wished Sam would hurry and hit his growth spurt already.

“They’re too big.”

Dean just smiled, “All the chicks are gonna dig you, Sammy.”

Even Mary turned around to comment, “Handsome boy.”

Dean rose from the table, “Time for my bath.”

Less than twenty minutes later, Dean was standing in front of his mirror, adjusting the collar on his plaid button up and rolling up the sleeves. Sam came to the door of the room they shared.

“How do you get your sleeves to look like that every time?”

Dean chuckled, “Lots of practice, Sammy.”

Sam held out his arms, “Can you do mine?”

Dean nodded and reached out to roll the sleeves of Sam’s plaid shirt. When he finished, he turned his brother so Sam could inspect himself in the small mirror. “What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Sam grinned. “Think these will catch Jess’s eye?”

“Jessica Harvelle?”

Sam nodded.

Dean winked, “Dude isn’t she a little young for you?”

Sam grinned, “She turns 12 next week. You’ve dated a lot of girls younger than you.”

“Okay, but you’re not me. You’re not as smooth,” Dean chuckled.

“Whatever. Do you think she’ll like it or not?”

“Of course, Sam. and besides, that’s my lucky shirt. I wore it to every single Reaping.”

“Really?” Sam gasped, looking down at it.

“Of course. Why do you think I let you wear it now?”

Sam grinned. They heard the front door open and heard Ellen’s booming voice call them. “Boys! It’s time to head to the square!”

Dean put his arm around his brother and walked with him into the living room. Ellen, Jo, and Jess were taking platefuls of food and covering them so the flies wouldn’t get them before they feasted tonight. Mary stood off to the side by herself, just watching, not really knowing what to do.

“Got everything set?” Dean asked. The girls all nodded at him, so they filed out of the house and headed for the square with all the other citizens of District 12. Like always, Dean avoided eye contact.

The closer they got, the more Demon Peacekeepers and angels that they could see. Dean felt his brother grab his right hand and Jo grab his left. He squeezed both of their hands as they headed toward the edge of the crowds on the square. Before the three headed to the table to sign in, they each got hugs from Ellen and Jess and Mary even smiled at Dean as she hugged Sam.

“Make sure you stand tall, no matter what happens. You set your jaw and you don't let any of those sons of bitches see your fear,” Ellen went on, holding Jo. “You are a big girl, and you act like one, Joanna Beth. Same for you Dean." She mussed Sam's hair, "You too Sam.”

The two boys nodded as they led Jo to their place with the other kids.

As Dean looked around, he could see the Peacekeepers with their helmets. He had never seen a demon’s true face, only the helmet and what he saw on television. While Demons looked like normal humans on television, John had told Dean that when you got too close to one in real life, you could see a much darker face under that. John had explained it to him, years and years ago, “Demons are born into regular bodies just like angels and humans, but what’s different, Dean, is the _soul_. Some humans can see the true soul of an angel or demon, but very few.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Dean repeated, hugging Jo as she went to join the other sixteen year olds.

She nodded, “The code right, Captain?”

Dean grinned, “Aye, first mate.”

Dean watched her take her place with some other girls her recognized in the district. He had to stifle a chuckle as he saw Lisa Braeden glare at Jo - Dean guessed Lisa still wasn't over him picking his family (and Jo's family) over her last summer. He knew it was only a matter of time before Jo got tired of it and decked her. When Jo looked back at him, he nodded and pulled Sam away toward the boy section.

He stopped at the eighteen year old section and sunk to his knees to talk to Sam. “Listen, Sammy. It’s all going to be okay, I promise.”

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath. Dean could see that his brother was nervous – he wasn’t stupid. “Sam, it’s going to be okay. You don’t have anything to worry about. You have three little slips. There are angels in this crowd with at least twice that.”

Sam just nodded again, Dean thought he was going to throw up.

“Dude, you’re going to be okay. I swear. Just go stand in the crowd and think of a good pick up line for Jess later,” he winked, earning a smile from his brother. He stood up and messed Sam’s hair, “See you soon, Sam."

He turned to walk away and abruptly stopped, looking back at Sam with a grin, "Try not to act like a little bitch.”

Sam made a face, “Whatever, jerk.”

Dean walked away, taking his place with the other kids his age and watched Sam walk down to the fourteen year old section. Dean just shook his head, Sam was small for his age… like _really_ small, small enough that Dean was afraid to let Sam walk home by himself at night. He desperately wanted Sam to hit his growth spurt before the next Reaping.

The doors to the building opened, and out walked the important people of the district. First there was Mayor Novak, then the District 12 escort… Ham, Pam, Ma’am… something like that, Dean could never remember. All Dean knew was that she dressed in ridiculous outfits for every Reaping and he hated her. Next came Bobby Singer, the only Victor District 12 ever had. He was a drunk and spent most of his time either passed out in the Victor’s Village or trying to get someone in the Hob to sell him liquor.

He nearly fell on the platform and Dean had to stifle a laugh. He wondered if it was all really liquor or if Bobby Singer just liked embarrassing the hell out of the escort. Probably both.

He looked down to the girls section and saw Jo looking at him. He winked as the escort introduced herself and started playing the mandatory “Panem is awesome, Abaddon we love” video.

Dean zoned out – he knew the entire video by heart. 75 years ago, there was an uprising in which humans and angels teamed up to try to take out the demons, Leviathan, wraiths, zombies, etc, that ran Panem. They came close, but it didn’t work, so the Capitol came down even harder on them. President Abaddon took office 10 years ago, and since she came to power everything was great, blah blah blah. Dean hated the speech, he hated the reaping, he hated the Games.

He’d be glad when it was all over. Maybe when Sam and Jess were old enough, he _would_ run away with Jo. He hadn’t been lying when he told her they were the best shots in the district – even the angels couldn’t outshoot them. Maybe they could do it. Maybe once Dean got away from this damn place he could have kids.

The dark headed escort walked up to the microphone, “Welcome, welcome, welcome! The time has come for the 74th annual Hunger Games! Now, we must select a male and female tribute. As always, ladies first.”

She walked briskly to the bowl that held all the slips of paper of every girl in the district. The humans were labelled with First and Last Name, the angels simply had only their angel names, given to them by the Capitol – another way of controlling them.

As the escort frisked her hand in the bowl, Dean started to sweat. Jo had at least 25 slips in the bowl, maybe more. Dean shut his eyes, _not Jo, not Jo, please, not Jo_.

“Castiel, angel.”

Dean’s eyes snap open. Of any name he could have possibly expected, Castiel’s was not among them. He could hear the escort-lady calling for Castiel, asking where she was. Castiel was the baker’s daughter, one of the richest merchants in District 12. She had long, black hair, piercing blue eyes, and was very small. _T_ _hey’re gonna rip her apart in the arena_ , Dean thought to himself. She walked up to the stage in her skirt, blazer, and a beige trench coat. Any other time, Dean would’ve scorned her for having such expensive clothing, but now, he felt sorry for her, because Castiel was an automatic death.

The escort then walked over to the bowl with all the boy names. His eyes flickered to where Jo was standing, worry etched across her face. Dean fought hard to keep his composure.

“And our male tribute is…” Dean held his breath, repeating his mantra, this time with Sam’s name instead of Jo’s.

“Sam Winchester!” the woman called out.

Dean’s eyes snapped open. He could feel his heart violently beating through his ribcage, his stomach threatening to throw up the bread he had shared with Jo that morning. His mouth suddenly went dry, and all he could think was “no. Not him.”

Dean started pushing his way through people, desperate to get to Sam, desperate to take his little brother away from this.

He finally fought his way into the aisle between the girls and boys, his eyes fixated on Sam. Sam was shaking as he took tiny steps up to the platform.

“Sam!” Dean called, his deep bass tenor echoing through the square. Every eye turned toward him, but his were only locked on his little brother. “Sammy!”

He started to run toward Sam in a frenzy, trying to shield him from the evil of the Games. But before he could reach his brother, four Demon Peacekeepers surrounded him. Dean tried to break through them, but the demons were too strong.

He had to get to Sam.

Sam was the only important thing.

Sam couldn’t go to the Games.

Sam.

Sam.

Sam.

Dean had to stop this.

“I volunteer!” he roared, throwing the Peacekeeper hands off of his shoulders. He stood tall, proud, just like Ellen had told him to.

“I volunteer as tribute.”

He could hear the gasps from the crowd - no one in the history of the Games had ever volunteered from District 12. Sure, the career districts did it all the time, but they were  _trained_ for the Games, they loved them. There wasn't a person in the district who hated the Games more than Dean Winchester.

Sam started to run back toward him, "No! Dean! No, Dean!"

Dean opened his arm to his little brother, "Sammy, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Go stand with Mom - "

"No!"

Suddenly Jo was there, taking Sam from Dean's arms and putting him in her own. "I've got him. Go, Dean."

Dean just nodded, setting his shoulders and striding to the stage. Jo would take care of Sam, Jo could handle it.

Dean was ushered to the stage by the Peacekeepers and told them his name.

“I’d bet my hat that’s your little brother, isn’t it?” the escort said with a big fake smile.

Dean was repulsed - he had just basically _sacrificed_ himself for his  _family,_ and it was amusing to this woman? But rather than bitch and complain, he just nodded, trying hard to keep his composure, to keep the strong, set jaw, to look fearless. Who knew how many tributes were watching this right now, trying to find a way to bring him down? He couldn't show any weakness.

“And you’re human?”

Dean just nodded, refusing to say anything else.

"Well, let's have a round of applause for District 12's first volunteer!" the woman said, clapping softly.

To Dean's surprise, not one soul clapped. Demon, angel, human - nothing. 

His eyes searched for Sam. He saw his brother on the edge of the crowd, in Jo and Mary's arms, standing next to Ellen and Jess. Every single one of them was crying.

His eyes met Jo's, and Dean prayed that she could read his expression.  _Take care of them_.

Rather than nod or say okay or anything, Jo detached herself from Sam. She stood tall and brought the three fingers on her left hand to her mouth, kissed them, and pointed them skyward toward Dean.  _Farewell, friend_.

To Dean's surprise, she wasn't the only one. First Sam, then Ellen, Jess, person by person, row by row, people that Dean knew and didn't know gave him the farewell symbol of District 12. But Dean couldn't do it back, he couldn't move a muscle. All he could do was clench his jaw and wait for the moment to be over, wait until it was time to break down.

The escort started to stumble over her words to cover the absence of applause, but instead she just told the tributes to shake hands.

He turned and shook Castiel’s hand like he was supposed to. But he nearly dropped her hand as soon as he grabbed it. Castiel’s eyes were pure blue, bluer than anything Dean had ever seen before. But beneath that blue… it was almost a pure white.

Dean knew what it was, John had told him about it years before - he was seeing her soul.

The escort quickly shuffled the two of them inside the building, explaining that they would each have a few minutes with their families to say goodbye. Dean’s eyes widened – this was probably the last time he was going to see his mother and brother. Instead of thinking about a pretty angel’s soul, he should probably focus on what he was going to tell them.

He and Castiel were shoved into different rooms, and Dean mentally went through a list of things he needed to remind Jo of and things he needed to tell Sam. Sam and Mary were the first two ushered through the door.

Dean could see the tears on both of their faces. He crushed Sam to him, calming him down. He reached out for Mary’s hand as he pulled away from Sam and sank to his level. “Sammy, listen. I need you to listen to me,” he said.

Sam nodded, “D-Dean, you got picked.”

“I know, Sammy. But it’s okay. Listen, Jo can bring you enough meat from the woods, okay?”

Sam nodded.

“You know how to skin animals and cook them, and you know how to gather good things to eat, right?”

Sam just nodded, tears still flowing down his face.

Dean kept nodding, trying to keep his composure. “Look, after the Games are over, Jo’s going to take you in the woods and teach you to hunt, okay? You _trust_ her, you understand me?”

Sam shook his head, “Why can’t you take me, Dean?”

Dean tried to open his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t make any words come out. He just pulled Sam in for another hug, letting his little brother cry on him.

He turned to Mary, “You can’t zone out again, understand?”

Mary nodded, “I wo –“

“I know you won’t. You’re the only one he’s got. I can’t ask Jo to take care of him, so you have to. I’m not gonna be there anymore to –“

Mary gently placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “I know. I-I’ll do it, Dean.”

Sam leaned up from his brother, “Dean. You-you have to come home, okay?”

Dean nodded, “I’m gonna do my best, Sammy.”

The Peacekeeper’s trudged into the room.

“Time’s up.”

Dean just nodded, pushing away his brother, “Trust Jo, Sammy.”

“Take this,” Sam said, pushing a necklace into Dean’s hand. “It’s from Dad, it’ll keep you safe.”

Dean nodded and watched his mother and baby brother get pulled from the room. When he looked down in his hand, he saw a tiny amulet on a tiny string. He remembered it from his dad’s chest in the bedroom. He could never remember what it was supposed to ward against, but he knew Sam believed it would really protect him. He put it around his neck as the door burst open again.

Jo entered the room. Dean knew her well enough to know that she had been crying, pretty hard by the looks of her red cheeks. “It’s okay,” Dean soothed, opening his arms for her.

She collapsed into him, “You said it wouldn’t be you.”

He stroked her hair, “I know, Jo. I know.”

Dean didn’t know if they stood like that for a few minutes or a few seconds, but eventually he had to push Jo away. There were important things to cover. “Look, after the Games are over, when the Peacekeepers leave, take Sam out, teach him everything we know.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jo interrupted. “If anyone can win, it’s you, Dean. You know everything about every monster that’s out there. You know how to kill them.”

“Knowing it and doing it are two different things, Jo.”

She just nodded, “You can do it, Dean. J-Just imagine that-that I’m there, that I’ve got your back. It’ll be just like old times.”

The Peacekeeper entered the room again, pulling Jo away from Dean.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them starve!” he yelled.

“Come back safely! Remember that I – “

But the door slammed in Dean’s face, leaving him in the strange room by himself.


	2. big entrance.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he saw the picture of the two of them, Dean had to fight to keep his composure.
> 
> Dangerous wasn’t enough to describe them.
> 
> Apart, they might have looked dangerous.
> 
> But together… they looked positively deadly.

Trains were odd. Dean watched the landscape speed by faster than he had ever travelled in his life. He wondered if he could shoot an arrow faster than this train was moving. He doubted it, but it would’ve been cool to try.

Dean wondered what Sam and Jo were doing. The Reapings wouldn’t be televised for an hour or so, then the Opening Ceremonies that night, so they were probably doing what he was doing – worrying about each other. He could easily picture the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with Ellen, Mary, and Jess, sharing worried looks. He wondered if they were discussing what skills would help him in the arena – he wished he could talk to them.

Castiel sat across the table from him looking out the window. Dean knew the _polite_ thing to do was talk to her and he really wanted to. He had so many questions for the pretty girl sitting across from him – why could he see her soul but no one else’s? could she see his too? why wasn’t her tie completely tied? why was she wearing a trench coat? why hadn’t she said anything since she’d been reaped? The list of questions raced through Dean’s mind.

But if he was going to have to kill her in a few days, what was the point? Images of him spilling her delicate blood and her putting an axe through his skull ran though his mind. The only thing Dean could think about asking her was how she planned on killing him.

So he went back to looking out the window and fiddling with the amulet Sam had given him. It was the first chance he’d really had to examine the thing. It looked like a small face with horns and big ears. Dean couldn’t imagine what in the world John had kept this small necklace for and he couldn’t imagine why Sam would’ve taken it from the chest of John’s things in the house… but for some reason, he really liked it.

He kept turning it over on his hand until a small carving caught his eye. On the back of the amulet, someone had carved what looked like a pentagram with some odd symbols. But Dean had heard John talk and teach enough to know that this was no ordinary pentagram, it was a Devil’s Trap, designed to hold demons in their place. Dean fought his smirk as he wondered if Sammy had even realized what was carved on the back of the amulet.

The door at the edge of the train cab swooshed open, interrupting his thoughts. Dean cut his eyes to see Bobby Singer walking – stumbling in. He didn’t say anything to either kid, just walked to the ice box, retrieved a bottle of clear liquid from it, and poured it into his glass. Dean envied him – he would’ve given anything for a drink.

“What are you doing?” Castiel’s soft voice asked. Dean thought he could hear a tone of annoyance.

“Excuse me?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, “I _said_ , what are you doing?”

“Drinking, the hell does it look like?” Bobby’s gruff voice retorted.

Castiel sunk back into her seat, content to say nothing else – Dean studied her, wondering why she had suddenly stopped. But it brought another question to his mind, wasn’t Bobby supposed to mentor them through the Games?

Bobby took another deep drink of his glass before filling it back up.

Dean set his jaw, “Shouldn’t you be doing your job or something?”

Castiel’s eyes flittered up to him, as if she was surprised that Dean had said anything. Dean could see the pure white of her soul again – he made a mental note to ask her or someone else about that whenever they had time.

“You think you know something about something, ya idjit?” Bobby snickered, taking another long drink.

“I know you’re supposed to be our mentor. That means you should probably mentor,” Dean retorted.

“Want some advice, kids?”

Both Dean and Castiel nodded; Dean leaned up in his seat.

Bobby chuckled, “Get drunk and accept the fact that you’re probably going to die. Get even drunker and accept the fact that I can’t do anything about it.”

Dean just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Bobby, taking it as his cue to leave the conversation turned back to the icebox.

“Balls!” He sighed, “no more damn ice. Perfect way to start to the trip.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, “ _Trip_? Do you think this is just some kind of game?”

Bobby nodded, “Yeah, genius. That’s why they’re called the Hunger _Games_.”

“These are our _lives_ at stake! The least you could do is _pretend_ to mildly give a shit!” Dean roared, standing from his chair and taking a few steps toward Bobby.

Bobby started to smile, he looked down at Castiel, “Do you think the same way, sweetheart?”

Castiel looked up with a glare, “I don’t want to die.”

Bobby smiled again as he took another sip, “So I’ve got a couple of fighters this year, huh? Well, as long as you’re good little soldiers and you do what I say, you’ll be fine.”

Without another word, he took his bottle, his glass, and his sparkling personality from the car, leaving Dean and Castiel alone.

Dean sat back down and prepared himself for the long ass ride to the Capitol. For a while, he enjoyed the silence, it almost reminded him of the woods with Jo.

“You shouldn’t have yelled at him,” Castiel quietly said, messing with her tie.

“What?” Dean said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Castiel looked at him with her pure blue eyes, “I don’t like it either, but orders are orders. We have to do as we’re told.”

“What are you talking about? That man is the only thing that can help us now,” Dean replied.

Castiel opened her mouth to reply, but their damn escort came in the room buzzing about the televised Reapings.

“I thought they weren’t until tonight?” Dean asked, rolling his eyes at her excited tone.

“But of course not, dear!” she giggled. “They start in just a few minutes!”

She went on, giggling about the different tributes from the different districts, but Dean zoned out. Instead, he focused on Castiel. He started to wonder why she had been so quick to defend their helpless mentor, but she looked at him and he was lost in the blue and white of her eyes again.

He couldn’t figure out why he could see her soul when he couldn’t see it in other angels. He remembered his dad had a book on the theory of why certain humans can see the souls of other creatures, but he didn’t have it with him and had no way to ask Sam to look it up for him. He debated asking Castiel about it.

The escort had found the right channel and blabbered on about going to find Bobby so they could all watch it together and strategize. When she was gone, Dean turned to Castiel, he chuckled, “Do you know her name?”

Castiel nodded and didn’t return his smile, “Pamela.”

Dean decided not to say anything else.

Pamela and Bobby filed in, one with popcorn and one with a bottle of liquor. Dean considered asking if they had any licorice, but he figured Pamela would think he was being serious instead of sarcastic.

As usual, the program started with a brief speech from President Abaddon. Dean rolled his eyes again – it was always some variation of the same speech. He remembered sitting at home with Jo, saying smart assed lines after everything the president said. Since Jo wasn’t there, Dean just added in lines in his head.

“Glad you’re tuning in.”

Like they had a choice.

“The Games are gonna be extra special this year!”

Maybe no one will win.

Dean chuckled at himself, earning an eyebrow-raise from Castiel.

“Head Gamemaker Zachariah has promised an extra-demanding arena this year! Hope our newest tributes are prepared to make their trek to the Capitol! Panem is honored by your presence,” she concluded, smiling creepily.

Dean just rolled his eyes – he couldn’t even find a response smart assed enough.

The television then cut to the announcers. Dean hated these two clowns almost as much as he hated President Abaddon. Gabriel and Azazel were an angel and a demon that got stuck with narrating the Games and talking about the tributes. Their excitement every year made Dean sick.

“Helllllooooo Panem!” Gabriel cheered. “Welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games!”

“We have an extra exciting group of tributes for this year, citizens! So strap in, grab some popcorn, and take some notes, because heeerrrrreee are the Reapings!” Azazel finished.

To Dean’s surprise, Bobby picked up the remote and clicked a button, silencing Azazel and Gabriel. He smiled contently as he took another drink of liquor. Pamela just rolled her eyes. Dean decided he liked Bobby.

After a few seconds of silent laughs on the screen, the camera finally faded away to the scene in district 1. As he was every year, Dean was struck by how different things were in the close districts in comparison to the outlying districts. The District 1 square was decorated in Panem’s colors, banners and flags and confetti everywhere. Children were _smiling_ , _laughing_ , it made Dean’s stomach turn.

Bobby turned from his spot on the couch to look at Castiel and Dean, “Either of you know what District 1 is famous for?”

“Luxury items,” Castiel said.

“Leviathan,” Dean said at the same time.

Bobby nodded, “Both correct.”

“But humans live there too, right?”

Pamela giggled, “Of course, Castiel. All the districts have humans and most have angels and demons. The careers mostly keep to themselves and the angels mostly stay in outlying districts.”

Dean just nodded, making the mental note. The first name pulled was a girl named Elizabeth Anderson, a human. She was blonde, pretty and confident as she strode to the platform. Dean made a mental note not to count her out. The male tribute was a boy named Dick Roman, a leviathan. He looked confident and was handsome – even if he couldn’t do shit in the arena, he would get a lot of sponsor money simply based on his looks.

District 2 was known for its demons and peacekeepers. Dean was hardly surprised to see two demons, Lilith and Alistair, volunteer. The blonde girl and creepy guy looked so excited that Dean’s stomach started to turn even more. He was glad he’d skipped lunch.

District 3 was home to most (but not all) of the vampires in Panem, and two were selected. Dean didn’t worry about them as much as the demons and leviathan. District 4’s main industry was fishing and it was inhabited by nearly all of the sirens in Panem. Dean wasn’t surprised to see a siren and angel become tributes there.

After the career districts, Dean found it hard to pay attention. He made a mental note of the amount of species in the Games this year, but until district 11, the only one that caught his eyes was the female tribute from 5, a girl named Bela Talbot.

“Her sister won it about 8 years ago,” Bobby gruffed. “You can bet Bela will be just like Emily.”

Dean made another mental note to find out how Emily won her games.

11 had an unusual arrangement this year, instead of angels and humans (which made up most of the district), a vampire and demon were both selected and brought to the stage. The male was a larger vampire named Benny, and if Dean hadn’t known any better, he would’ve sworn Benny was a career district vampire. Not only was he muscled enough, he had the attitude of a career. He swaggered to the stage, taking his sweet precious time, and Dean could’ve sworn Benny was _whistling_. He decided he liked Benny’s attitude.

The girl surprised him too. Her name was Ruby; she had long dark hair and looked like she was annoyed with the whole process. Dean remembered his own act on the platform today and wondered how much Ruby was faking. Although he marked her in his mind as dangerous, like Benny, he decided Ruby was okay too.

When the cameras turned on 12, Pamela picked the remote back up and unmuted the TV, letting the voices of Gabriel and Azazel blare through the speakers.

“Already an unusual year and we haven’t even made it to the last district yet,” Azazel was finishing.

“Let’s take a peek,” Gabriel said.

The footage of the announcers zoomed to a corner, so the viewer could see Pamela reaching into the bowl and the announcers reactions. Dean found himself holding his breath as Pamela called out Castiel’s name even though he already lived it.

Once again, Dean looked over at the girl and felt sorry for her. Getting her out of the initial bloodbath at the beginning of the Games would be a feat, much less her winning. Dean wondered how weird it would be to ally with the small, dark headed girl on the couch beside him, he didn’t know if he could actually _die_ for the girl, but imagining her death was making his heart hurt. Dean decided it was because Castiel reminded him a lot of Jo, and he would hate for someone like Jo to die, whether it was because of him or not.

“Well she looks a little on the small side,” Azazel observed.

Gabriel nodded, “Let’s hope she makes some powerful allies or that her angel mojo holds up.”

Pamela went back to the boys bowl and pulled out a slip. Dean tried to look away – he didn’t want to see this, he didn’t want to miss his family – but he found he couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen.

“Sam Winchester.”

Sure enough, the cameras zoomed in on Sammy as he trembled on his way to the stage. Azazel made another comment about how small he was, saying that he would be easy pickings – Dean realized he wanted to tear Azazel’s lungs out.

And then the camera faced on him, fighting off the Peacekeepers and yelling that he volunteered. He looked fearless, strong, proud…all the things he had been aiming for in the moment. He was proud of himself for keeping his composure.

“Now this one looks interesting,” Gabriel commented. “Dean Winchester, 6’, 200 lbs, father was a miner… looks like a strong kid.”

“And,” Azazel smiled sinisterly, “he’s got revenge for baby brother on his mind… might make him a touch dangerous.”

Dean smiled to himself, dangerous he could live with.

A few moments later, Gabriel and Azazel announced that the opening ceremonies would be on that night and everybody was required to tune in. Pamela announced that they were close to the Capitol City and they would be taken to their stylists.

“You’re just going to _love_ them,” Pamela gushed. “Dean, yours is the head stylist. He’s new this year, but that does not mean he isn’t good. I’m sure he’s going to dress the two of you in something absolutely _lovely_.”

Dean rolled his eyes, he didn’t know if _lovely_ was the term he’d use to describe all this bullshit.

Bobby leaned up from his spot on the couch, “Want some damn good advice?”

“Yes,” Castiel softly replied. Dean had almost forgotten she was there.

“Whatever the stylist tells you to do, do it.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, “So we’re supposed to just let them parade us around in stupid outfits?”

“Yes,” Bobby said, leaning back. “That’s my advice, boy. Take it or leave it.”

“So no arguing?”

Bobby nodded at him. “These stylists are trying to get you _noticed_ enough for sponsors. Most of the time they have a plan, so stick to the plan.”

…

Bobby’s words echoed in Dean’s mind hours later as his prep team washed and scrubbed every single inch of his body. They cut and washed his fingernails, toenails, eyebrows, even parts of his stubble. They had a ten minute debate on whether they should shave his face and eventually one of the girls decided he would look cuter with scruff, so the facial hair stayed – Dean was thankful, it made him look older.

He was even more thankful when the prep team left the room. They were nice to him and all, but the Capitol fashions they were decked out in just made him want to stab his eyeballs with a butter knife. He decided to lean up and try to decipher a game plan. He mentally went over each tribute, the leviathans, demons, angels, vampires, sirens, wraiths, kitsunes, croatoans, werewolves, and humans.

He briefly wondered if he should try to team up with Castiel. Maybe she was one of those types who was really shy but was a bad ass once she got in the arena. Of course, eventually one of them would have to kill the other, but Dean was more worried about surviving the first few days of the Games rather than winning, even though he promised Sammy he’d come home.

His stylist walked in the room, jumbling his thoughts. He had expected bright gold tattoos and green hair and high heels and all of the Capitol fashions. What he did not expect was a man with old tattered shirt, leather jacket, boots, and a mullet.

Dean’s mouth hung open a little, how the hell did _this_ guy become a stylist for the Games?

“Name’s Ash,” he said with a slight drawl, extending a hand to Dean.

Dean shook it, “Dean.”

“I know.”

He had a file in his hand and set it on the bed next to Dean, opening it to reveal several concept art drawings and a few designs of costumes, keeping silent. It was kind of unnerving. Every person he’d met since Sam’s name had been drawn had only said “congratulations,” or “I’m so proud you’re here.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me what an honor it is to be here?” Dean asked.

Ash shook his head, never tearing his eyes from the file. “No point in that.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

Ash looked up at him, “You volunteered to save your brother, not because you want to kill people. My guess is that you aren’t too happy with the whole system right now. Am I right?”

Dean just nodded.

“That’s what I thought. And I’ve heard just about all I can stand of how noble it was for you to volunteer for baby brother,” Ash said. “So, we’re gonna give’em something _new_ to talk about with you. Now, do you know what District 12’s main industry is?”

“Mining – coal.”

“Very good,” Ash smirked. “I see you paid a lot of attention in school. Now, most of the time what do you guys wear?”

Dean chuckled, “Lame coal miner outfits.”

“Exactly,” Ash said, shuffling through the photos.

 _Exactly what_? Dean thought.

“So what does coal do, Dean?”

“It…burns?”

Ash smiled, “Very good. You’re a damn genius.” Dean almost rolled his eyes, he wondered how good of friends Ash and Bobby were. “Yes, coal burns. So instead of lame miner costumes, we’re going to dress you as… are you ready for this? … _fire_.”

“ _Fire_? Like real-life, actual fire? No thanks, dude.”

“Well it won’t be _real_ ,” Ash shrugged. “It’ll be completely safe… I think. But either way, you wanna get noticed, get sponsors, right?”

Dean nodded.

“Then this is how we do it,” he said, turning toward the trashcan in the corner of the room. He spit something gross and brown into it – Dean didn’t dare ask what it was.

“What’s-her-face with the green hair will come back in a sec to get you in your leotard-thing. So it gives us a few minutes,” Ash said, slicking his hair back.

“Okay.”

“Got any questions?”

Dean nodded. He was still wondering why he could see Castiel’s soul but not the soul of other angels. Ash seemed like he was a pretty smart guy, so Dean opened his mouth to ask, but the green haired lady burst in with his outfit. Dean scowled – it didn’t look very big at all and he figured he would have to squeeze into it and still be uncomfortable. It was black and almost looked like reptile skin rather than fabric.

Remembering Bobby’s advice, Dean nodded and took it from the lady, shucking his clothes and putting it on, making sure to keep the amulet Sam had given him on the entire time.

His mind flickered back to Sam and Jo. Did they cry when they saw the Reaping video? What were they going to say tonight when they saw him in a skin-tight black thing that had fire coming out of it?

Well, he knew the answer to that one. Jo would make some smart assed joke to make Sam laugh, and they would spend the rest of opening ceremonies making fun of the tributes (mostly Dean) and wondering who the hell let them walk around in those clothes. He never in his life wished he could be sitting in his living room watching the television with them than he did right then.

As he put it on, he was surprised that it was so stretchy. It hugged every muscle in his body, making him look like some kind of superhero. He turned to Ash and outstretched his hands, “How do I look?”

Ash just nodded, “Capitol girls are gonna dig you, man. But just one last thing.”

He took the cape from his assistant and draped it over Dean’s shoulders, clasping it with the piece on his shoulders. It hung down his back and (thankfully) covered the material stretching over his ass.

“Are you scared of fire, Dean?”

Dean shook his head, “Not afraid of anything.”

“Good, because when I light this son of a bitch up, you ain’t gonna feel a thing.”

Dean chuckled at Ash, he decided he liked his stylist.

“What about Castiel?”

“That pretty girl?” Ash asked. “She’s gonna be dressed in basically the same thing. You two are gonna make a hell of an entrance.”

With Dean all set, Ash led him and the rest of the prep team out of the room and to what Ash introduced as the bottom floor of the Training Center. Dean saw several of the faces that he had seen on the television earlier that day – none of them looked friendly – and the faces of Bobby, Pamela, and Castiel with her prep team.

Castiel offered Dean a small smile as they took in each other’s outfits. Her makeup had been done in a way that made her look at least five years older and twice as fierce. Dean smirked at her, making her blush and look down at her feet.

When their chariot and horses were brought over, Dean could feel his eyes widen. He wouldn’t let Sam have a _dog_ in the house – he was going to be expected to ride behind a horse? He’d rather take on bears and mountain lions in the woods than ride in that chariot.

Sensing his hesitation, Ash chuckled. “The horses are perfectly trained. You’ll be fine.”

Dean weakly nodded, “Jus-just never seen anything that big before.”

Ash and Pamela gave him confused looks, as if Dean never seeing a horse before was the oddest thing in the world. Bobby and Castiel, however, just nodded as if they understood, Bobby even reached out and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Pamela looked down at her watch. “Time to go, children! Remember, you’ve got to make a good impression!” she said in her high-pitched, too-excited voice. Dean wondered how much of an impression it would make if he killed his escort on the first day.

Castiel got in the chariot first and looked down at Dean with a smirk. _If I can do it, so can you_. Dean rolled his eyes and got in the chariot, making sure he looked braver than he felt.

Ash leaned one arm against the chariot, “Now look, gang, when you’re out there, I want you to smile, wave, be merry. Got that?”

Dean and Castiel both nodded. Dean’s palms started to sweat – he wasn’t sure he could face all these sons of bitches who just wanted to see him kill people, but he remembered Bobby’s advice and decided he’d try his best.

“Time to light you up!” Ash said with a yell. He showed them what buttons to press before he walked away with Pamela and Bobby to their seats.

“Are you ready?” Dean asked.

Castiel nodded and looked up at him, “I hope they like us.”

The white part of her eyes was shining brightly again, and Dean could only manage a smile in response. Castiel took a deep breath as she reached over and clicked the button on Dean’s cape. Instantly, fire shot through the whole thing.

“Is it hot?”

Dean could feel his smile grow, “Not at all. I don’t feel anything. Here, let me do yours.” He reached behind Castiel and turned her cape on too. Instantly, flames shot across it.

Dean looked up at Castiel and felt his mouth drop. Not only did she look beautiful, she looked fierce, _dangerous._ She looked as if she would slit his throat and laugh about it afterward – the complete opposite of what she had looked like when they were reaped just hours before.

“How do I look?”

Dean just nodded, “F-uh, fantastic, gorgeous.” Castiel blushed and looked down again. “What about me?”

She met his eyes and gave him a sarcastic smile, “You look gorgeous too.”

Dean took a deep breath as the horse started drawing the chariot forward. He stole a glance over at Castiel’s cape and wondered how he looked next to her.

He didn’t have to wonder long, because as they came into the stadium, the crowd instantly began to cheer louder than anything Dean had ever heard. The two of them smiled, waved, and Dean noticed Castiel’s eyes shining. He also noticed the cameras were focused on the two of them. He did his best to smile and wave like Ash had told him to, stealing glances at the huge Jumbo-tron screens.

When he saw the picture of the two of them, Dean had to fight to keep his composure.

Dangerous wasn’t enough to describe them.

Apart, they _might_ have looked dangerous.

But together… they looked positively _deadly_.

Dean felt a smile creep to his face. Without thinking, he grabbed Castiel’s hand and thrust it up into the air. He saw her look at him out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was confused. So, Dean just looked at her and winked. Castiel blushed, but she tightly gripped Dean’s hand, trusting his judgment.

The crowd went nuts. They screamed, they cried, they started to chant for District 12. Even the other tributes turned around to see the boy and the girl on fire holding hands for everyone to see.


	3. teach me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean winks, “Easy, Cas. I can make it look like I’m bad at it.”
> 
> Dean notices her blush again and stops adjusting his bow, “What? Is it okay that I call you that?”
> 
> Castiel smiles at him, “I guess it's okay. No one ever has before.”

Dean was glad when Pamela showed them their penthouse apartment. He was desperately in need of a hot meal, hot shower, and soft bed.

Pamela buzzed on about how amazing they looked and how much everybody was just going to _love_ them and give them all the sponsorship money in the world, and while Dean had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out at Pamela, he knew that not everyone liked the two of them being the center of attention.

For one, Dean had been able to see the glares they’d gotten the second they’d gotten off the chariots – and not just from the Careers. It seemed like _everyone_ hated the big entrance they had made. Dean was a little worried that they’d just been given a target on their backs, but he couldn’t help but chuckle at how pissed the Careers had been.

“Dean, your room is down the hall and to the right, Castiel’s is on the left,” Pamela told them. “Dinner will be in 20 minutes if you’d like to shower and get cleaned up.”

The two of them made beelines for their rooms, and the second that Dean shut his door, he started taking off the skin-tight suit. Sure, it had hugged every muscle on his body and made the Capitol girls swoon, but he was glad to be rid of it.

When he was finally naked, he paused before the huge walk-in shower. He’d never used an actual shower before and the Capitol shower had so many buttons that Dean wasn’t sure which one to press. So he experimented with the buttons until he found one that was hot water and normal smelling soap.

When he was finished and dried off, he looked around the room. It took Dean a few seconds to realize that for the next few days, this room was _his_. Not his to share with Sam, not his to share with Mary… _his_ , and his alone. A smile started to creep to his face, but it quickly faltered – he just sighed, wishing he could call Sam.

He found some comfortable clothes in the closer and decided to walk out to the living area where Pamela, Bobby, and Ash were sitting. He could hear their chatter and paused at the edge of the hallway, eavesdropping. A few seconds later, Castiel joined him.

“You know that’s impolite,” she whispered.

Dean just smirked and waved her closer so she could hear too.

“…it really was a nice outfit,” Pamela complimented.

“But did we attract the wrong kind of attention?” Bobby questioned.

Ash shook his head, “’Wrong kind of attention?’ Ain’t no such thing. Any kind of attention for District 12 is _good_ attention.”

“You didn’t see the way that Career pack was lookin’ at them,” Bobby went on, taking a sip. “Hand-to-hand combat ain’t their game, so I’m worried we just created a bulls-eye on their backs.”

“What is our game then?” Dean asked, stepping into the room.

He saw three pairs of eyes look up at him. Pamela bit her lip as if she was afraid that too much had been said.

When no one answered him, Dean just cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

Castiel set her jaw, following his lead, “Shouldn’t we know what our game _is_?”

The room stayed quiet for a few seconds, all the adults just looking at each other as if they were afraid to break the silence.

Finally, Bobby smirked and nodded, “See you two idjits are early for dinner.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and just walked over to the dinner table. Castiel followed him and pulled out a chair for herself.

Within a few minutes, people were bringing out plates upon plates of food and setting the table. Pamela, Ash, and Bobby all walked over to the table and sat down, chattering on and on about whatever dessert they were supposed to be having. Strawberry something-or-other. Strawberries just made Dean think of the patch that he and Jo used to gather them from, so he quickly concentrated on his food and dug in.

The thing Dean was most unused to was talking over dinner. He and Sam were often unsure of where the next meal would come from, so it usually wasn’t a social affair. They often ate in silence, scarfing down whatever was in front of them. As he looked around the table, he observed Castiel and Bobby behaving the same way: eating their meals quietly, quickly, and without interruption.

Pamela and Ash seemed to never shut up. First it was the Opening Ceremonies, then it was the weather, then the arena, then this, then that… Dean gripped his silverware tighter and tighter, contemplating starting the Games early by killing his escort.

“So were you and Dean friends back in 12?” Pamela politely asked Castiel over dessert.

Castiel smiled nervously at Dean, “Not really.”

Pamela frowned, “Well that’s too bad.”

… _because you’re going to be dead soon,_ Dean added in his head.

“He’s two years ahead of me, so we never spoke much,” Castiel continued. “Just a couple times, I think.”

Dean flashed her a smile, “Yeah, Castiel bought our squirrels a few times at the bakery.” He nudged her, “She always bought them for more than they were worth.”

Castiel started to blush and looked down, “Well I – I just –“ she trailed off, she didn’t know what she was trying to say.

“Did the two of you do business often?” Pamela asked.

Castiel shook her head, “No, it was mostly Jo Harvelle.”

Dean’s brow furrows, “I never noticed that. But yeah, it _was_ mostly Jo.”

Actually, when Dean started to think about it, Jo was the one who dealt with women who wanted to buy their stuff. He always attributed it to women just thinking alike and all that, but was there more to it?

Dean just shook his head, he had enough on his plate without worrying what Jo may or may not have meant. When or if he got home, he’d ask her about it, but until then he had work to do.

Bobby sat up in his seat, “Okay, tomorrow they’re going to take you down to the Training Center and let you work with some weapons.”

Dean nodded – this is what he had been waiting for, the opportunity to show off with a bow.

“Do you have weapons that you’re good at using?” he asked the both of them.

Dean and Castiel just looked at each other.

“Dean’s pretty good with a bow,” Castiel quietly said. “Best shot in the district.”

Dean put up his hands, “Now I don’t know about all that.”

“It’s true,” Castiel defended. “My father is always complimenting that the squirrels he and Jo brought us were always shot clean through the eye.”

Bobby and Ash looked at Dean with a hint of surprise on their faces. “This true, boy?”

Dean just shrugged, “I’m pretty decent, I guess.”

Bobby looked back at Castiel, “How about you, sweetheart?”

Castiel just shrugged, “I don’t know. I mean, my sister Anna would throw knives with me in the back of the bakery sometimes.”

“Any good with them?” Bobby asked.

Castiel shrugged again, “I could hit a still target.”

Bobby just nodded and took a sip of his drink – Dean assumed it was some form of liquor. “Well, tomorrow, I don’t want Dean to go near a bow or Castiel to even look at the knives.”

“But the Careers will – “ Dean started to yell, but Bobby cut him off.

“ _Exactly_. The Careers are automatically going to show off what they know and what they’re good at. They _want_ you to know what they can handle because they want you to be afraid.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, “So you want us to wait until the individual sessions?”

“Exactly,” Bobby answered. “ _Then_ you can show off and no one will know what you’re good at.”

“So what are we supposed to do for the next two days?” Dean half-whined. He had been looking forward to shooting with a quality bow.

Bobby took another sip of his drink, “Learn a skill you don’t know. Knot-tying, how to start a fire, how to swim, _anything_. Learn something you don’t know.”

“That’s where the Careers mess up every year,” Ash chimes in. “They just want to use weapons, then come game time, they don’t know how to stay warm.”

Dean just looked at Castiel and nodded, “We’ll stick together, scope out the competition.”

Dean half expected Castiel to question him or make a snide comment, but she just nodded at Bobby.

…

At ten am the next morning, Castiel and Dean followed Pamela down the hallway to the elevator. Since they were on the top floor, Dean was unsurprised that the elevator stopped to pick up several of the tributes, including District 2. He was prepared for the glares of Alistair and Ruby and brushed them off with a smirk.

As the elevator sunk to the floor that the Training Center was on, Dean could see Lilith’s glare turn to a devilish smirk as she nudged Alistair out of the corner of his eye.

“Quite the entrance you two made yesterday,” she said with a sarcastic smile.

Dean turned to narrow his eyes at her and started to open his mouth, but Castiel beat him there.

“The fire should have reminded you of where you belong, you abomination.”

Lilith raised her chin, “Better watch who you’re talking to, angel.”

Dean took a step slightly in front of Castiel, arms reaching out protectively. “Or what? Gonna risk starting it early?”

Lilith’s mouth curved into a smile as Alistair started to chuckle, “I can understand an angel with an attitude, but a _human_?”

The elevator doors dinged as the opened to reveal the rest of the Training Center. Alistair and Lilith exited first, both giving Dean and Castiel smirks. But just before he reached the door, Alistair leaned back in, close to Dean.

“Better watch being over-protective of that angel, _boy_. Might get you killed.”

Dean didn’t realize he had tensed his arms until Castiel gently touched him. “It’s okay, Dean. They’re gone.”

Dean just nodded at her and strode out of the elevator, letting Castiel follow behind him.

The first thing that happened was all of the tributes were arranged in front of a dark headed woman on a platform. Once she quieted everyone, she shut her lids to reveal pure black eyes, letting them know that she was a demon.

“There are certain rules the Capitol would like to remind you of before you start your training. First, no fighting with other tributes, there will be plenty of time for that once you get in the arena. Secondly, you should know that not all of you will have the same abilities once you enter the arena. Angels will not be able to instantly transport themselves from place to place, while shifters, demons, Leviathan, etc, will not be able to change form once inside the arena.”

She went on through the list and Dean felt himself getting a little bored. He heard the rules every single year before the Games. Basically the only ones that were constricted were angels and creatures who could change shape.

The rule change was due to the Games a few years ago, too many shifters had shifted into the same person and all died, so the Gamemakers had a hell of a time trying to figure out who each kid _actually_ was. That was one of Dean’s favorite years and he still chuckled whenever he thought of it.

But when Dean boiled it down, the rule changes were simple: shape-changing creatures had to stay their true shape and angels couldn’t zap from place to place. Most still had their healing powers and still had extraordinary perception.

One of the few species that benefitted from the arena was werewolves. Normally, it took a full moon for a werewolf’s power to become known, but in the arena werewolves could turn it off and on as they pleased. Dean made a special note to keep an eye on the two werewolves from District 9, a girl named Madison and a boy named Thomas.

Eventually the woman releases them to stations, giving them a warning to learn stations about the environment so they can survive.

As the tributes split up, Dean saw the Career pack heading toward the weapons stations. He smirked and whispered low to Castiel as he watched them, “Looks like Bobby was right.”

Castiel nodded and looked over toward the edible plant station, “Looks like that one’s free.”

“Looks like we should learn what’s yummy in the tummy and what’ll kill you,” Dean grimly stated.

Within twenty minutes, Dean had passed the test with flying colors. He attributed it to all the years spent out in the woods with Jo, but when the station director asked him how well he did, he simply said his dad’s plant book.

Castiel, however, had more trouble. She confused poisonous with good to eat and the ones that should be used for medicines. She got frustrated quickly and Dean found himself getting more and more amused with the way her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, like as if concentrating more on the screen would make the answers appear. Her bangs fell in her eyes and she huffed as she pushed them away so she could see.

Dean caught himself wishing he could push her hair back from her face.

He shook his head, tearing his eyes from Castiel and instead focusing them on the Careers. He noticed Lilith and Alistair throwing knives and practicing with swords and spears that were on hand. The Leviathan seemed skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but it was the two tributes from District 11 that intrigued Dean the most.

Benny and Ruby, if he remembered right, were sticking to the same plan that he and Castiel were – learning stations that weren’t “popular.” He observed them at the knot-tying station. Ruby’s hands flew through the knots quickly, Dean assumed that the knots were something she knew by heart, which led him to think that Ruby was simply making herself look busy so she could observe… like him.

When Castiel finally got the hang of the edible plants, Dean decided to take her to the fire-making station. “It’s important that you know how to do it in case we get separated,” Dean explained. He didn’t know why, but he liked the thought of being close to Castiel, protecting her, even.

Dean just nodded to the attendant and sank to his knees in front of the sticks and supplies. Within a few minutes, he had a good fire started and Castiel seemed like she had a pretty good grip on the instructions.

But as Castiel rubbed the sticks together again and again, she couldn’t get anything to light. She huffed in frustration, narrowing her eyes further, trying to concentrate. Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at her.

“Here, Cas, let me show you,” he said softly, grabbing her hands and showing her how to rub the sticks together to produce the spark. After a few rubs, it worked, and Dean looked up at Castiel with a wide smile. “You got it.”

Castiel smiled back in Dean’s eyes and he thought he saw a faint blush creep on her face. He looked down and realized he was still holding her hands. He cleared his throat, “Um, h-how about we try something else?”

Castiel nodded, looking down at her hands.

And so they did. They spent the rest of the day at stations that didn’t involve weapons. Dean learned a little about camouflage from Castiel, who had decorated cakes at her family’s bakery and Castiel learned a little more about making snares and which snares needed to be used to attract which animals.

“Now something like this,” Dean explained, holding up a simple snare out of regular wire, “is just big enough to catch a rabbit or squirrel. So it won’t hold like a – uh, a bear or something. With me?”

Castiel nodded, “That would require a much larger trap, right?”

Dean smiles back at her, “Exactly.”

As Dean’s hands quickly worked through the rope, he glanced up at the Careers. Of course, he and Castiel were getting glares from most of the other tributes, but he noticed 11 wasn’t _glaring_ … they were just _staring_.

“What do you think of that brunette and the guy with her?” Dean quietly asked Castiel.

She took a quick look, “The demon and vampire?”

Dean shook his head, “Is that what they are?”

Castiel nodded, “The vampire was the one who whistled through his reaping.”

“Forgot about that,” Dean admitted.

Castiel opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly the demon woman that had spoken to them that morning appeared, announcing that the training sessions were done for the day.

After dinner that night, Dean unloaded most of the information he observed about the Careers.

“You weren’t kidding, most of them love showing off,” he told Bobby.

Bobby nodded, “Wait till the interviews. Those idjits _always_ cocky.”

He leaned in toward them, “Now tomorrow, I want you both to learn a weapon that you don’t know. Whether that’s knives, a spear, a bow – whatever. Start with a weapon you’re unfamiliar with and stay at it until you can hit a target or kill a mannequin. Understand?”

Dean looked at Castiel and nodded.

…

The next day, the demon woman gives the same speech about learning the elements rather than just weapons. Dean sees most of the same people at most of the same stations, save for a couple taking the demon’s warning about the environment.

The first thing he does is head to the fire-making station with Castiel. He watches as she makes three perfect fires and gives her nods of approval before moving on to the knot-tying station, where he makes her replicate some of the knots he taught her the day before.

When she completes those, Dean looks over toward the weapons stations. “Which one do you wanna learn first?”

She shrugs, “Maybe you could teach me how to shoot a bow?”

Dean looks down at her and smirks, “If you teach me how to throw knives.”

“Deal.”

They walk over to the station with the bows and arrows together and Dean contemplates how he’s going to teach Castiel without actually showing his skills, but he’s intercepted by an attendant. Castiel throws him a brief smile, but it fades to the look of frustrated-squinty-eyed-concentration as the man starts explaining how to shoot the bow. Dean shifts his body so it looks like he’s really concentrating, but his mind flitters around the room, watching the different tributes.

After what feels like an eternity, the attendant hands Dean and Castiel bows that he thinks they can handle and sits back as they get ready to shoot.

“Dean,” Castiel hisses. “Bobby specifically told you to stay away from bows.”

Dean winks, “Easy, Cas. I can make it look like I’m bad at it.”

Dean notices her blush again and stops adjusting his bow, “What? Is it okay that I call you that?”

Castiel smiles at him, “I guess it's okay. No one ever has before.”

Dean winks at her and goes back to his bow, finally stringing it and setting it how he likes. He knocks an arrow and pulls back the string, relishing the feel of a bow in his hands again. Two days is too long to go without shooting.

His eyes settle on a small square of the target, well off from the bulls-eye. He knows Bobby told him to stay away from bows, but he justifies it, thinking that he had to make sure that Castiel got the instruction she needed, and he couldn’t do that by watching.

He takes a deep breath in, opening his eyes and refocusing on that one spot, just above the edge of the target. On his exhale, he releases and lets the arrow fly.

To anyone else, it was a terrible shot that almost went off the target, but to Dean, it hit exactly where he wanted.

“I don’t think you did that right,” Castiel says, eyes squinting at Dean’s arrow.

“Shut up and shoot,” he instructs, gesturing to the targets.

She takes the arrow and mimics what Dean just did, pulling the string and arrow back and releasing it just as quickly. The arrow barely hits the target.

Castiel’s brow furrows in concentration again, “That wasn’t right.”

Dean chuckles, “No, but relax. We have all day to work on it.”

“What am I doing wrong?”

“First of all,” Dean says, taking a step toward her and putting a hand on her shoulder, “ _Relax_.”

Castiel takes a deep breath and looks up at Dean, “What now?”

“Second of all, you’re too rushed on the release. Pull the arrow back like you did a second ago and pause.”

Castiel does as she’s told, with the arrow pulled back as far as it can go.

“Good, now close your eyes. I want you to think of just a small section of the bulls-eye. 'Aim small, miss small,' remember that phrase, Cas,” he pauses, watching her lips as she mouths the phrase.

“Now, open your eyes, see the same part of the target. Inhale with a deep breath, and when you exhale, release your fingers.”

Castiel takes a deep breath in and when she breathes out, she lets go of the arrow, sending it flying toward the target. It hits one of the inner rings with a loud thud.

“Good, Cas,” Dean smiles. “That was good. Now try it again, but this time, really concentrate.”

They spend most of the afternoon shooting the bow, but eventually Castiel can hit pretty well on the target and Dean gets good at missing on purpose. Castiel leads him over to the knife throwing station and picks up a small one.

“This is about the size Anna would make me throw.”

Dean nods and picks one up, “How old is Anna?”

“Like 21, I think. She’s married now with a couple of kids,” Castiel answers.

Dean nods, “You two weren’t close?”

Castiel shakes her head as she looks at the knife, “Not like you and Sam. She didn’t really have to pay attention to me, so she didn’t.”

Dean just nods again, unsure of what to say. He can’t imagine a world where he’s not close to Sammy or even one where Jo isn’t close to Jessica. So he just picks up another knife and steps up to the throwing range. He rears back and lets the knife fly from his hand – almost completely missing the target.

“Was that on purpose?” Castiel asks with a small grin.

“Think you can do better?” he challenges.

Castiel smiles and him and takes the knife she picked up, walking over to where Dean stands. She looks at the target, takes a breath, and throws the knife with a smile flick of her wrist. It doesn’t hit the bulls-eye, but it hits a lot closer than her arrows had. She turns to Dean and smiles.

“Shut up,” Dean snaps, grabbing more of the knives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know i changed tense halfway through this chapter. just felt like it would be a more interesting read this way and i'm too damn lazy to change it, lol.


	4. memorable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s blood starts to boil even more. He needs a good score, and his bull’s eye should have earned him at least an eight or nine. Hell, Cas needs a good score too. Dean’s hands tense on the bow – he’s got to do something to get their attention, something to let them know that District 12 won’t go quietly, that he and Castiel are different.
> 
> The first step is to make sure they pay attention to him and Castiel whenever she comes in.
> 
> When the pig is brought in, Dean sees an apple in its mouth. He smiles to himself.

The next day, Pamela opens Dean’s door with more flourish than necessary. She practically shouts at him to get up, squealing that it’s going to be a “big, big, big day!”

Dean groans and rolls over.

“Dean Winchester, it’s the day of the individual sessions so you better get up and get your game face on!” she says, leaving the room.

Dean suddenly sits up in his bed.

The individual sessions.

A pit forms in his stomach.

He hadn’t even thought about the individual sessions. During the training and even during most of the Games, Dean knows he can protect Castiel and shelter her from all the bad things that will inevitably happen. But during the individual sessions, it’s her vs the Gamemakers for fifteen important minutes. If she doesn’t do something spectacular, they’re not going to give her a high score.

Even more importantly, if Castiel doesn’t get a very high score, she won’t get any sponsors. And if she doesn’t get any sponsors, she may miss out on something in the arena that will keep her from death. Like matches, or water, or medicine, or… anything.

The pit in Dean’s stomach grows larger.

He gets out of bed and considers taking a shower. He checks his watch – he either has enough time to shower or go eat. He figures it’ll settle his stomach to get some coffee, so he throws on some clothes that the Avoxes have laid out for him. It’s uncomfortable and tight, but Dean throws it on rather than protest. He walks into the dining area and sees Castiel eating tensely and listening to Bobby.

“Now, when you go in, there’ll be a … well, good mornin’, sunshine,” he says to Dean when he notices him.

Dean nods and grabs a plate and a cup of coffee, He pauses for a second. He knows if he sees her, he’ll start to panic for her and he can’t afford to do that, so he just avoids Castiel’s eyes.

“Hello, Dean,” she says.

 _Damn it_. He looks up and gives her a weak smile.

Bobby takes a sip out of his coffee cup – Dean assumes there’s some type of liquor in it, he wonders if Bobby would share with him – and continues. “There’ll be all kinds of weapons. Knives, bows, make sure you use them.”

“What are they looking for?” Castiel quietly asks.

Bobby shrugs, “They’re just trying to access your strength. The ratings are just to give other tributes and the people that bet on the Games a sense of where you stand. Careers usually get really high scores.”

“What about outlying districts?” Castiel asks.

“Usually anywhere from 4-8,” Bobby answers, chewing his bacon.

Castiel’s face falls and it’s replaced with panic. Dean can pretty much see her thoughts as if they’re pasted on her forehead.

Dean glances at her, “Just because they’re normally low doesn’t mean they will be this year.”

Castiel looks up at him and Dean can see the hope start to form in her eyes, “You think so?”

Dean nods, “Absolutely.”

“It’s not very hard. In fact, the kid I had 6 years ago got a 10,” Bobby continues. “Just find some way to make them remember you.”

Dean takes a deep breath, locking eyes with Castiel. Her big blue eyes are sad, and Dean knows that she realizes exactly what he has – he can’t help her here.

The rest of the meal is eaten in silence.

The elevator is empty when he and Castiel enter it and press the button for the bottom floor. Dean’s grateful – less people he has to convince that he’s okay. Castiel stays silent, fiddling with a loose string on her pants. Dean wonders if she’s as worried about him as he is about her.

To be honest, he shouldn’t even be worried about her, and it aggravates him. He should be worried about winning the Games and getting back home to Sammy, who probably hasn’t left the house since Dean was reaped. He knows that school is out during the Games, so it’s not like he has to miss that, but Dean is legitimately worried. Has Mary kept her promise and taken care of Sam or has Jo had to take care of her own family _and_ his? He closes his eyes and silently hopes that Jo has had good luck hunting in the woods. He doesn’t wanna think about the alternative.

He wishes he had talked to the butcher or the baker or _someone_ about feeding Sam and Jess if Jo couldn’t hunt. He shakes his head and opens his eyes – he knows better. No one in the Hob or the district would let Sam and Jess starve because he and Jo were so well-known and liked. And now that he’s in the Games? Dean nods his head, no one is going to let Sam starve.

He takes a deep breath as the elevator rises.

When the elevator dings and opens, Castiel puts a hand on Dean’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Dean. Everything is going to be okay.”

Dean gives her a smile, “I know it will.”

The two of them walk side by side to the waiting bay, where the other 22 tributes are already seated. The only two available seats are behind Ruby and Benny, the tributes from 11, so Dean nudges Castiel in that direction and they take their seats.

Everyone is silent, it only adds to the tension in the room. HE wonders how many of these tributes are going in the room with a plan of attack, a certain weapon they’re going to use, a certain trick they’re going to try. He wonders how many of these tributes are going in terrified, with no idea what they’re going to do.

He bets the 13 year old human from District 6 is about to piss her pants, he looks up to see her quivering in her seat. He nudges Castiel and nods in the 13 year old’s direction. Castiel narrows her eyes and tilts her head to the side, “Why is she afraid?”

Dean shrugs and puts his head down.

One by one, tributes are called out. From District 1 to District 11, the pit in Dean’s stomach grows to the point that he has to bury his face in his hands. Around District 7, Dean feels Castiel reach for his hand. It surprises him, but he gives her control of his hand and she lets their hands rest on his thigh. He considers what the other tributes would say, but then realizes he really doesn’t give a shit.

He squeezes Castiel’s hand and reaches for the other one.

No words are said. No words need to be said.

They sit that way, holding each other’s hands until Dean’s name is called.

He stands up, looks down at her, and nods. It’s a brave nod, as if he has to convince himself that he _can_ do this. Castiel smiles, “Good luck, Dean.”

He nods again, “Good luck, Cas.” He turns around and walks through the open door.

The room is large and open, filled with weapons like the training center had been yesterday. Dean zeroes in on a bow and a dark smile fills his face as he half-runs to it. He runs his hand over the metal and tests the string. He picks an arrow he likes and walks over to the target he was aiming for yesterday – he can still see the holes off the target where he missed on purpose.

He looks up at the balcony to see all the Gamemakers laughing and stuffing their faces with food and drink.

Dean’s blood starts to boil, no wonder the outlying regions always get low scores – the damn Gamemakers are too drunk by then.

“Dean Winchester,” he announces. The Gamemakers quiet for a few seconds, nod at him, and go back to their meals.

Dean shakes it off and goes back to the target. He remembers his words to Castiel yesterday: “aim small, miss small,” so he chooses a small portion of the bull’s eye and pulls the string back. He takes a deep breath and lets it soar, hitting the bull’s eye in the dead center. He smiles and leans back, proud of himself.

He looks up at the Gamemakers and see that they’re still scrambling for wine. Someone brings in a pig and they all start to exclaim.

Dean’s blood starts to boil even more. He _needs_ a good score, and his bull’s eye should have earned him at least an eight or nine. Hell, Cas needs a good score too. Dean’s hands tense on the bow – he’s got to do _something_ to get their attention, _something_ to let them know that District 12 won’t go quietly, that he and Castiel are _different_.

The first step is to make sure they pay attention to him and Castiel whenever she comes in.

When the pig is brought in, Dean sees an apple in its mouth. He smiles to himself and before he knows what he’s doing, he knocks the arrow back and aims.

With a loud _thud_ , the arrow sinks through the apple and hits the wall behind the Gamemakers. They instantly go silent, all turning to look at Dean.

He smiles widely and mock-salutes them, “Thank you for your consideration.”

He sets the bow back where it goes and turns on his heel to walk out of the door. He decides to wait by the elevator for Castiel, because somehow he feels like they should face Bobby and Pamela and Ash together. He doesn’t wait for more than 30 minutes before Castiel comes out of the same door that he did.

Dean gives her a smile, “How’d you do?”

Castiel smiles back, “Good, I guess. They paid a lot of attention to me. How about you?”

Dean chuckles and looks away as Castiel presses the elevator button. “I, uh, I shot the apple from the pig’s mouth.”

“ _What_?”

Castiel’s eyes are wide, “Dean what did you do?”

Dean shrugs, “They weren’t paying attention. They’d already written 12 off, and I’m not gonna let that happen. We deserve a chance.”

Castiel shakes her head in silence as they ride to the top of the building.

“Pamela is not going to be happy, you know.”

Dean chuckles, “That uptight bitch needs to let loose a little bit.”

He’s not completely sure, but Dean thinks he sees a smile play at Castiel’s lips as the elevator doors open.

…

To say that Pamela wouldn’t be happy was an understatement. She paraded around the penthouse floor, screaming at Dean for his mistake. Ash had chuckled and given him a fistbump and Bobby had given him a drink of his whiskey to celebrate.

Dinner had been tense, mainly because Dean told Pamela that there was no way in hell he was going to apologize to the Gamemakers.

“Dean, that’s just plain rude,” Pamela had huffed in her seat.

Dean shrugged, “Making me kill 21 people for fun is a little rude too.”

“Dean,” Castiel had hissed. “Stop.”

Dean just shrugged, “It’s the truth.”

Castiel had shaken her head, “Look, I don’t wanna be here either, but the Games are necessary. The Capitol says we have to do it, so we do it. Follow the rules, okay?”

Dean had let the conversation drop and hadn’t said anything until that evening, in front of the television.

Bobby sits on the big couch with a bottle in his hand. Ash sits beside him, shotgunning a beer. Dean desperately wants another drink of liquor – just enough to numb his aching head. The TV comes to life with Gabriel and Azazel talking about the tributes.

“We promised you that we’d have an exciting round of tributes this year!” Gabriel gushes, smiling wide at the camera.

Dean can feel his hand tightening around the arm of the chair he’s in, anger pulsating through him. Rather than rant against the Capitol again, he just pictures ripping Gabriel and Azazel’s lungs out. After a few minutes, he relaxes.

The announcers go through each of the districts, calling out the scores. The Careers score high – as normal, Dean’s not really impressed. The human from 5, Bela Talbot, scores a seven and Dean cocks his head to one side, trying to imagine how she did it. He’s unsurprised to see Benny score a nine since he’s built like a Career, but Ruby manages to score only a five. Dean feels bad for her.

Then Castiel’s picture comes on the screen. Gabriel smiles and looks down at Cas’s picture.

Dean can feel Castiel tense up on the couch beside him as she leans forward in her seat. Dean finds himself leaning forward too.

“From District 12, Castiel. Classification: angel. A score of… eight.”

Sighs erupt from the room. Dean grabs Castiel’s hand and squeezes it while Ash claps her on the back.

“Good job,” Bobby says, nodding his head in approval.

“Atta girl, Cas,” Dean says, squeezing her hand.

She squeezes back with her left hand as her right points to the screen. “It’s your turn now, Dean.”

“Dean Winchester,” Azazel smirks. Dean’s skin crawls at the way Azazel says his name. “Human from District 12 with a score of… eleven.”

The room stays silent for a few seconds as they all sit with mouths wide open. Then they erupt. Pamela and Ash rise from their seats and congratulate him, clinking their glasses together and making toasts. Castiel just sits beside him, quietly smiling and holding his hand, squeezing it every few seconds to let him know that she’s there.

Dean just politely smiles and takes it all in, but his mind races. Why would they give him a score like that? Yeah, the shot was really good, but an _eleven_? Dean’s only seen them give scores that high once in his entire life.

Panic starts to set in.

Sure, Cas got noticed and they gave her a great score, but what they hell has he done to _himself_?

“I guess they liked what you did,” Bobby chuckles, taking another sip of his drink.

 _Or they made me a target_ , Dean adds in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter than the others, mainly because i want to keep the interview in a chapter by itself. hopefully the next chapter won't take me so long to put up! comment and let me know what you guys think! ~xoxo


	5. strategy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
> 
> He doesn’t remember walking over, but when she hits the last step of the staircase, he extends his hand to help her down, letting her loop her arm through his. She smiles brightly at him and he can see the white again.
> 
> “Wow,” he breathes, trying hard to catch his breath.
> 
> “Do I look that bad?” she breathes back, eyes widening.
> 
> “No no no,” Dean backtracks, squeezing her hand. “You look – you, um, - “
> 
> Bobby chuckles, “Beautiful, that’s what the boy’s trying to squeeze out.”
> 
> “Yeah,” Dean breathes, blushing. “Beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know you guys probably hate me for waiting three months to post. but hopefully i can start updating this fic on a regular basis :) like maybe every monday or something? idk. but enjoy~

The sunlight on Dean’s face makes him grumble – he was having a good dream.

He had started in the woods, on the normal rock where he usually waited for Jo in the mornings. Dean had looked to his left and saw a big wad of bushy brown hair that nearly covered an eager pair of hazel eyes.

Sam had smiled at him, “Do you think I’ll kill anything today, Dean?”

“I don’t know, Sammy. Takes a lot of practice,” he smirked, turning to muss his brother’s hair.

A twig had snapped to their right, Jess and Jo Harvelle had emerged from the brush, each carrying a bow and a hunting knife. Dean had smiled, of course he had Jo were taking Sam and Jess out to the woods to start hunting.

The four had smiled, ate their picnic-packed lunch and told jokes. He and Jo had started Sam and Jess with basic bows and snares, letting them shoot target practice at trees, and sitting snares up in the woods.

But the best part of the dream for Dean was the normalcy. It was just like being back at home. The sun brought out the blonde in Jess and Jo’s hair and Sam had finally hit his growth spurt, his tall and broad shoulders making him look like more of a man than Dean was. By the time the dream was over, Jess had hit something with a knife and Sam had shot a rabbit through the heart.

But Pamela had interrupted him, making him get up and go back to the reality of the Hunger Games.

He groans – only ten hours until the interviews – meaning he has all day to work with Pamela and Bobby on his form, continuing the work of the last three days.

He dreads it.

He dresses in the clothes that the Avox left out for him and starts toward the dining hall, keeping his tread as light as he would in the woods so he can eavesdrop on the quiet conversation.

“…Do you think that’s important?” Castiel whispers.

Bobby exhales, “Of course it’s important. Why didn’t you tell me that when you got here? Could’ve changed our whole strategy.”

“I thought it was common.”

“Not so much,” Ash chimes in, mouth full of food.

Dean decides he can’t wait any longer, he strides through the room.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas, Ash, Pam, Bobby. What’s for breakfast?”

Pamela charts off the eggs, bacon, etc etc, but Dean’s not really paying attention. His eyes focus on the unspoken conversation between Bobby and Castiel. He wonders what they were discussing and what was so important, but he figures he’ll ask Cas about it whenever Pamela takes them both to talk about proper etiquette.

He internally groans. Another day of watching Castiel parade around the room in ridiculously high stilettos while he tries not to stare. Perfect.

He starts to eat in silence when Bobby starts talking. “Now, Castiel, you’ll go with me till noon today and Dean’ll go with Pamela. At noon, we’ll come back in and eat, then switch. Pam’ll be working with you guys on your entrance and how to work the crowd, I’ll be going over your strategy with you.”

“Strategy?” Dean asks.

Bobby nods, “Each tribute usually has some type of angle to work – innocent, sexy, cocky, you get the idea. We’ve gotta figure out yours so we can let Gabriel and Azazel know.”

“Why?” Castiel asks.

Pamela gives a sweet smile, “So they know how to angle the questions, dear.”

Castiel nods, returning to her oatmeal.

“And why are we splitting up?” Dean snaps.

Bobby shoots a glance at Castiel before looking back at Dean, “This kind of thing _does_ tend to happen before the Games. I mean – you guys _really_ aren’t a team.”

The words hit Dean like a butter knife to the gut. He mumbles his agreement and looks down at his bacon, suddenly uninterested in eating.

Bobby’s right.

He’s been spending so much time putting his own ass on the line to try to think of ways to protect Castiel in the arena. He never once thought that she wouldn’t care or that she wouldn’t think of them as a team. Hell, Dean doesn’t know why _he_ even cares – he promised Sam that _he’d_ get home, not some pretty girl with blue eyes. But no matter how much Dean tries to rationalize it, he _does_ care, and he _does_ mind.

He goes back to chewing his food as Bobby keeps talking about strategies.

–

Dean has to smirk to himself as he fiddles with the tie around his neck. Ash did one hell of a job on the suit. It looks like a normal tuxedo – black slacks, black blazer, white undershirt – but it’s the _tie_ that draws the attention.

It looks almost like a hologram, but every which way that Dean moves, it looks like it’s on _fire_.

It scared him a little at first, but after getting used to it, he decided he liked the look. He likes that Ash is playing the whole “on fire” bit.

The door to his tiny room opens and Dean is glad to see Ash come in the door. His hair is styled in the mullet once again and his sleeves are ripped off of his tux. Dean turns away from the mirror and to his stylist, holding out his arms so Ash can see the suit on him.

Ash nods and gives a thumbs up, “Looks great, man.”

“Thanks,” Dean says, looking back in the mirror and taking a deep breath.

“Are you nervous?” Ash asks, grabbing two bottles from the fridge. Dean assumes it’s beer and is more than thankful when Ash offers one to him.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

Ash shakes his head, “Everyone’s nervous before the big night. It’s almost worse than the Games, honestly.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean asks, taking a drink from the bottle. The cold liquid is enough to soothe his nerves, but he wishes he had a few shots of the liquor Ellen used to hide in the cabinets of the Harvelle home.

He shrugs, “Tonight almost decides the way of the Games, you know? Whether or not you get the damn sponsors, how much people _like_ you, etc etc.”

Dean grimaces, “Bobby wants me to act cocky. Like every Career son of a bitch isn’t already doing that.”

Ash shrugs again, “You _did_ get the highest score – maybe you should act a little cocky.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “The cocky ones are normally the first ones they kill.”

“Usually. But normally tributes don’t score any higher than a ten.”

Dean looks up from his beer and meets Ash’s eyes with a smirk. The dude may be quirky and a little weird, but Dean likes him.

“What’s Cas’s strategy?” he asks, voice a little softer.

The smile fades from Ash’s face and he takes a long sip. “I honestly don’t know.”

Dean looks down at his bottle, “I figured that.”

He thinks Ash can tell how bad it hurts his feelings that Cas doesn’t wanna be a team, so he quickly puts up a wall on his feelings, wiping them from his face and putting on the tribute mask that he’s been wearing. He smiles and stands from his seat, extending his arm and his beer towards Ash.

“To a hell of an impression?”

Ash smiles, standing next to him and clinks the tops of their bottles together. “Give’em a hell of an impression, Dean.”

The two drown their beers quickly before filing out of the small room. Bobby and Pamela meet them in the hallway, eagerly chattering on about something that Dean doesn’t really care about. He doesn’t fail to notice that Pamela is wearing a very familiar shade of red all over her body and Bobby’s tux seems like a melted down, less intense version of his own. They almost look like a team.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean gruffs, trying not to let _too_ much emotion seep into his features.

Pamela turns to her left and points up the stairs to where all the girl tributes are filing down and finding their mentors and teams. Dean sees the girls from 1, 3, 7, and 8 in their gowns and short dresses, all looking more beautiful than most of the girls Dean’s ever seen in his life.

Except one.

When Castiel finally descends down the stairs, Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He’s read stories about the world stopping, about men seeing women so beautiful that they forget their own names. He never understood what they were talking about until now.

It’s a simple dress – the same shade of red as Pamela’s and of Bobby’s tie, one shouldered and tight fitting to her waist, where it blooms out and stretches across the floor. The bottom ripples with every movement – almost like the pretend flames that decorate his tie. Her dark hair is pinned away from her face, letting the curls cascade down her shoulders and nearly covering her breasts, even her bangs compliment her face and bright blue eyes.

Dean’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

He doesn’t remember walking over, but when she hits the last step of the staircase, he extends his hand to help her down, letting her loop her arm through his. She smiles brightly at him and he can see the white again.

“Wow,” he breathes, trying hard to catch his breath.

“Do I look that bad?” she breathes back, eyes widening.

“No no no,” Dean backtracks, squeezing her hand. “You look – you, um, - “

Bobby chuckles, “Beautiful, that’s what the boy’s trying to squeeze out.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, blushing. “Beautiful.”

-

It seems like an eternity for all the tributes to go through their interviews. There are so many things riding on this interview, and Dean knows he should be going back over the strategies and tips that Bobby gave him, but he can’t concentrate on anything except Castiel.

The tributes go through one by one, each one droning on about how his or her special ability will help him or her win and kill in the arena. It bores him so he goes back to thinking about how beautiful the white in Cas’s eyes makes her look.

And then suddenly, it’s his turn. He strides to the stage – tall and cocky like Bobby told him to. Gabriel asks his questions and they’re all directed to how his 11 makes Dean special and how he’s going to win the Games and go home.

Until the last two.

“Now, you did something very special this year – something that’s never been done in the history of the Hunger Games,” Gabriel solemnly says. “You volunteered – the first volunteer from District 12. Quite an honor.”

Dean knows he should have a little more emotion in his face, but he can’t.

“Would you mind telling us about it?”

Dean’s mouth sets in a hard line, but he catches Ash’s eye. Ash leans his head forward, encouraging Dean to talk, to open up. He almost rolls his eyes – he trusts Ash, but answering an emotional question was _so_ not his gameplan.

“It – uh, it was my brother.”

He can hear the gasps from members of the crowd. He fights the urge to roll his eyes – everyone in the stands knows that he volunteered for Sam – there’s no need to feign surprise.

Gabriel just nods, “You’re close to your brother, yes?”

Dean nods.

“What’s his name?”

“Sammy,” Dean says, throat starting to close. Talking about Sam hurts. He misses his brother.

Gabriel nods, “And did Sam say anything to you as you left?”

Dean exhales, thankful that Gabriel didn’t use his nickname for his brother. “He – um, he made me promise him that I’d win.”

The buzzer goes off to Dean’s left, signaling the end of his interview. The crowd starts to cheer as he and Gabriel stand and shake hands before solemnly waving to the crowd. He follows the stage to a side room where Ash, Bobby, and Pamela stand, all with drinks in their hands. Bobby offers him another beer as they turn to the large television that shows Gabriel talking and joking with the crowd as he gives Castiel’s introduction.

He’s thankful it’s over, but the pit forms back in Dean’s stomach – did he do it right? Did they like him?

Within seconds, Castiel is being ushered on the stage and sits in the same seat that Dean was just in. he feels the pit in his stomach grow and tighten, threatening to consume him.

“So, Castiel – beautiful name, by the way – is there anyone special in your life?”

Castiel frowns and Dean catches himself smirking.

“Not particularly,” she admits and the crowd chuckles a little bit.

“Oh come on, Cas! I – uh, I can call you Cas, right?”

Dean narrows his eyes and his blood starts to boil a little at Gabriel using his nickname. He eases a bit when Cas shakes her head.

Gabriel waggles his eyebrows, “Beautiful girl like you – there’s gotta be some lucky boy chasin’ after you.”

Castiel shakes her head, “Not really. I mean – there’s one guy, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t know I existed till a few days ago.”

Dean feels his hands pull into fists – he doesn’t like the thought of Castiel liking someone else. He concentrates on her image on the screen and tries to calm himself down.

“Did the two of you go to school together?”

Castiel nods, “I didn’t know there was anything special about him until he turned fourteen and I was twelve.”

“What happened then?”

A smile plays at her lips, “Well, this boy lost his father in an accident. The whole town had a memorial of sorts for the families and my family attended. When he was on the stage, accepting some kind of medal for his father, I saw his eyes.”

Dean can see Gabriel lean closer to Castiel, almost on the edge of his seat. The camera pans out to the audience and Dean sees a lot of the women in the audience are on the edges of their seats too. He works on trying to unclench his fists.

“But it wasn’t just his _eyes_ that I saw, Gabriel. I was – “ Cas takes a deep breath, “I was seeing his _soul_.”

The crowd gasps at the same time Dean does. Because he knows exactly who Cas is talking about.

“And at first,” Castiel continues, “I had no idea what it meant. But when I went home and asked my parents about it… they said that some souls can look into the eyes of other vessels and see the true soul shining beneath. They also said that these – these are called soul mates.”

The word hits Dean like a ton of bricks.

He and Cas are _soulmates_.

That’s why he can see her soul in her eyes and she can see his.

They were meant to be.

He barely registers that his mentor, stylist, and escort are smiling next to him. He barely registers that Gabriel is talking until he says Cas’s name.

“Well, Castiel,” Gabriel says, “why don’t you just win the Games and go back to 12? Then this boy will _have_ to marry you.”

“That’s not gonna help me,” Castiel says in a quiet voice.

“Why not?”  Gabriel asks, reaching for one of her hands.

“B-Because,” Castiel says with a deep breath. “He came here with me.”

The audience erupts, screaming and crying, catching on to the emotions that have already hit Dean like a freight train.

He and Castiel are soulmates.

And one of them is going to have to die.

Dean sets his jaw as he sees Castiel get up from the chair and walk off the stage. Tears flood her cheeks as she walks toward him and without hesitation, he opens his arms to her, pulling her to his chest.

One of them will have to die.

And it sure as hell isn’t going to be Cas.


	6. no time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing he notices is the sunlight. It’s so bright it hurts his eyes. He closes them for a second, adjusting. When his pupils have adjusted, Dean looks around.
> 
> Just as Ash predicted, the arena was made for him. The woods, the rolling hills, hell even the mountains off in the distance. It’s just like District 12, it’s like being at home.

_The Girl on Fire_.                                                                                                                                 

That’s what they’ve been chanting for nearly six hours.

Dean rolls his eyes as he looks over the city – if he hears the word ‘fire’ one more time…

He takes a deep breath, pulling his water bottle to his lips and taking a drink. Bobby had warned him about drinking alcohol and being dehydrated the night before the Games start, but Ash had given him a shot of whiskey anyway, making him promise he’d drink water for the rest of the night.

And six hours ago, he had drank his fill and kissed Castiel goodnight, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before Pamela came in to wake him.

He should’ve friggin’ _known_ that he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

So he sits on the rooftop, overlooking the Capitol City. The people are partying – Dean can see the tiny figures dancing in the streets and he can hear their screams and shouts and chants. More than once, a digital billboard lights up with a picture of him holding Castiel with the words “the star-crossed lovers of District 12” underneath.

That one makes him smile.

He runs his hands through his short hair, sighing as his hand flitters down his own neck and chest, settling on the amulet Sam had given him before he left.

 _Sam_.

He wonders what Sam thinks of all this bullshit. Honestly, Dean can perfectly picture him at their home with Mary, Ellen, Jo, and Jess, curled around the TV and anxiously waiting. He imagines them with full bullies, just having feasted on some plump deer or rabbits that Jo shot in the woods.

Dean can easily picture Sam and Jess and Jo giving lame add-ins as Gabriel introduces the tributes and he can almost _hear_ Jo talking smack about all of the other tributes as they came to the stage.

But most of all, Dean misses his brother.

With his eyes closed, Dean can see Sammy smiling. Just that dorky, fourteen year old, bangs in his face, sometimes-hazel-sometimes-green-sometimes-blue eyes shining, huge smile that Sam wears.

Dean opens his eyes, quickly getting rid of the image. No need to linger on it if there’s still a hope of going home to his brother. Sam’s smile will still be there if going home isn’t an option for Dean.

He sighs, taking another drink of the water. He starts to wonder if he should’ve started taking Sam hunting before he left. Sure, Jo was a good hunter and Jo would teach Sam everything she knew, but was there something that Dean didn’t teach him and should have?

Like talking to girls.

Sam was already an awkward fourteen year old. He was gangly and his arms and legs were too big for his body. He blushed any time he got anywhere near a girl that wasn’t Mary, Ellen, or Jo, and he’d start stuttering so badly no one could tell what he was trying to say.

Dean groans, leaning his head back against the stone pillar. He should’ve taught Sam to talk to girls before he left.

He hears footsteps behind him and turns quickly, expecting Pamela or a Peacekeeper to usher him back to bed.

Instead, he sees Castiel.

Her hair is in a long, dark braid, pulled around her shoulder. She wears flannel pajama bottoms and a teeshirt that’s snug enough to jumble Dean’s thoughts.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Heya, Cas.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” she softly asks.

Dean shakes his head and looks out over the city, “Thought I’d come watch the party, since we can’t go.”

A flash of movement catches his eye – the billboard’s changed back to the picture of the two of them.

“I didn’t know any cameras could see us,” she whispers.

A small smirk graces Dean’s face as he turns back to her, “I’m kinda glad. It’s a nice picture.”

Castiel’s blue eyes twinkle in the dim light, Dean can’t help but reach out a hand to her. She takes it, letting him pull her close, then hoist her up on the ledge where he’s been sitting.

“Aren’t you afraid of falling?”

Dean purses his lips as he shakes his head, “Ash told me there’s a force-field here. It’ll catch us if we do anything crazy like try to ice ourselves.”

He pulls Castiel between his legs as he leans back on a pillar. His hand ghosts over her arm, feeling the goosebumps. He wishes he’d brought a jacket for her, but he didn’t, so he just pulls her close and wraps his arms around her. She falls into his embrace, leaning her head back on his shoulder as she looks out over the city.

Dean knows he should say _something_ , but suddenly he’s run out of things to say. Tomorrow starts the worst period of their lives, and who knows how many opportunities Dean is going to have before one of them dies?

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

Dean takes a deep breath, tightening his arms. “Would you believe me if I said no?”

Castiel chuckles, “I’m nervous too, but this is necessary.”

“What?”

Castiel sighs, “The Games. They’re necessary to keep peace.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at her, “Agree to disagree, I guess.”

Castiel just nods, letting Dean hold her. She takes a few staggering breaths – Dean can see her going to pieces.

“You’re going to be okay,” He says, kissing her temple. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Cas.”

She takes a deep breath, “You know they won’t put us on plates next to each other – when we, when we first come into the arena.”

“That makes sense.”

“I’ve watched a few films,” Castiel says. “They almost never put people with pre-determined alliances next to each other. And I’d say we’re pretty pre-determined.”

Dean chuckles, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“So should we have a plan?”

Dean lets his hands idly trace against Castiel’s arms while he thinks. Of course, they have no idea what the arena is going to look like. Some years its desert, some years it’s abandoned towns, some years it’s a forest, and other years it looks like any kind of environment the Gamemakers think will be fun.

“Okay, look, we don’t know what it’s gonna look like. So let’s just assume that there will be _somewhere_ to hide, okay?”

Castiel nods against his shoulder.

“Wherever your plate is, I want you to turn and run, got me?”

“Yes, Dean.”

He sighs, “I mean it, Cas. I’ll worry about food and weapons, all I want you to do is run and hide somewhere – I promise I’ll find you.”

Castiel’s hands tighten on his arms, “I believe you, Dean.”

Castiel shifts, settling the middle of her back over the amulet Dean wears. He hears her exclaim, leaning up to see what was poking her.

“What is that?”

Dean touches the amulet, “My brother gave it to me.”

Castiel nods, gently touching it. She rolls it over in her hand and gently smiling as her fingers touch each detail of the face. As she turns it over, her face contorts in confusion.

“What is this, on the back?”

Dean smiles, “You don’t miss much, do ya, Cas?” Dean thinks he can see a faint blush on her cheeks, but it’s too dim out on the rooftop to be sure.

“Well, this,” he says, turning it over and angling it so Castiel can see, “is a Devil’s Trap.”

“What is that?” Castiel asks, squinting.

Dean finally chuckles and reaches up to take the necklace off. He hands it to Castiel, letting her give it the squinty-eye examination.

“It’s a trap, for demons. When you put them in one it makes them weak and they can’t get out unless you break it somehow.”

Castiel nods, “What if they’re wearing this necklace?”

Dean smiles, “Never thought about it. But I guess it _could_ work.”

“It’s useful,” she decides, handing it back.

An idea forms in Dean’s mind.

“Actually, Cas, why don’t you wear it tomorrow? It could be your token.”

Castiel looks up, her blue eyes meeting Dean’s as a large smile breaks out on her face. “You mean it?”

He nods, helping her slip it on. “That way you know what the Devil’s Trap looks like. Ya know, in case we get separated.”

She smiles, reaching down to feel the amulet on her teeshirt. “You need to get some sleep, you know.”

Dean sighs, looking back at the crowds of people still partying, “I know it.”

Castiel just nods, gently holding his hand for a second. “Come on, Dean. You can escort me back in the building.”

Dean reaches over, gently kissing her lips before letting her lead him off the ledge and back into the building.

-

The next morning comes entirely too early.

Dean feels like he had barely closed his eyes when Pamela came in, waking him for the day.

He dresses in the jeans, boots, black teeshirt, open button down, and a cargo jacket that was lying out for him at the end of his bed. He guesses some Avox left them or something. He follows Pamela out into the hallway and down to the main room of their floor. She offers him breakfast, and Dean knows he should eat, but his stomach is churning so hard that he thinks he’d just throw it back up.

So he takes a water bottle and gulps it all down.

Bobby walks into the room, holding a mug of coffee.

“No beer today?”

Bobby’s eyes look down at the cup before meeting Dean’s, “Somebody told me they wanted me to stay sober enough to help, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

Dean takes a deep breath, “Where’s Cas?”

Bobby tilts his head toward the door, “Already dropped her off. Waitin’ on you now, kid.”

“I’m ready, I guess.”

Bobby nods, “Drink the rest of that water, Dean. Never know how long it’ll be before you find some in the arena.”

Dean nods back, draining the water as fast as he can.

When he’s done, he shows Bobby the empty bottle and follows him out the door and into the hallway.

The elevator ride and walk to the hovercraft are quiet. Dean tries hard not to throw up and tries harder not to worry about where Castiel is or how he’s going to protect her. Thoughts of Sam flitter back to his mind, but he quickly crushes them. He won’t be able to do this if he’s thinking about Sam.

When they reach the hovercraft pad, Bobby pulls Dean back by the shoulder. Dean cooperates, letting Bobby pull him into a bone-crushing hug. After a few seconds, Bobby pulls back.

“When you first get in there, don’t step off the pad. It’ll explode,” he explains. “And when you first get there, they’ll have a lot of stuff at the cornucopia, okay Dean? _Ignore it_.”

“But there – “

“I know there will be a bow,” Bobby says. “Ignore it. Careers will be all over it, and hand-to-hand combat isn’t your game, okay?”

Dean takes a deep breath, nodding.

“Now look, Cas asked me to pass along a message.”

Dean nods, “What?”

“She said to tell you to head back, that you’d find her, whatever the hell that means.”

A small smile graces Dean’s face as he clasps Bobby on the shoulder, “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Be careful, son.”

Dean nods again, turning toward the hovercraft and walking aboard.

It’s filled with a mixture of demon peacekeepers and tributes and what Dean assumes are Avoxes. There are twelve chairs with seatbelts, six on each side, facing each other, eleven of them are occupied. He looks around, hoping to see Castiel, but she must be on the second hovercraft. Dean walks toward the empty seat and lets an Avox buckle him in.

A woman comes around with a needle, putting a shot of something into each tribute’s arm. Dean starts to protest and ask whatever the hell they’re trying to put in him, but the woman grabs his arm too quickly, putting the needle in his skin and hitting the plunger.

“It’s a tracker,” she quietly explains. “Just so they can find you in the arena.”

Dean nods, settling back into the seat as the hovercraft begins to take off. It touches down after ten or fifteen minutes – Dean’s not wearing his watch so he can’t be completely sure – he can’t imagine the arena being too far from the Capitol City.

The door to the hovercraft opens and Dean’s seatbelt is unbuckled by an Avox with blonde hair. She smiles at him, but it’s a sad smile, like the kind you send a soldier off to battle with. He’s herded to the door and into another building, immediately met with some of the stylists.

He spots Ash instantly and starts walking toward him, a little quicker than some of the Career tributes.

“Good to see you, Dean,” Ash calmly says, putting an arm around him and leading him down a tunnel.

They keep walking past doors, each with a random number on them. When they finally reach the one with 12, Ash flashes a key against the doorhandle and it jumps open automatically.

It’s a small room, gray colored and boring. In one corner sits a jacket, in the other stands a platform that Dean assumes will take him up into the arena.

Ash walks over to the jacket and picks it up. It’s a dark green cargo jacket with a lot of pockets and no hood. Ash runs his hands over the material before handing it to Dean.

“Dark colors,” he muses, reaching for the other clothes. There’s a black teeshirt, similar to the one he’s already wearing, and a dark blue collared overshirt.

“What do you think?”

Ash takes a deep breath, “Doesn’t look very waterproof, so I would shy against a water arena or a rainy environment. It’s all pretty thick, so it’ll probably get cold at night. But the dark, woodsy colors…”

Ash looks up at Dean and smiles. Dean knows that his stylist is thinking the same thing he is – this arena is going to be _a lot_ like District 12. Which gives him the advantage.

“Did you bring a token? From your district?”

Dean nervously chuckles, “I – uh, I did, but I gave it to Cas.”

Ash smiles, “I figured you would. So I brought a back up plan.”

He reaches out his hand and shows Dean a necklace. He turns it over in his hand a few times, recognizing the sigils on each side of the pendant.

“Top side is Devil’s Trap, bottom side is an angel thing.”

“An angel thing?”

Ash nods, “Draw that somewhere flat, in blood, put your palm on it, and it’ll get rid of angels.”

“Where does it send them?” Dean asks.

Ash chuckles, “It’s supposed to send them to the four corners of the earth, but I’m guessing it’ll just send them to the four corners of the arena. Either way, you have it if you need it.”

Dean smiles, taking a deep breath. When he finishes putting on the jacket, Ash hands him another cup of water. He downs it eagerly, not really sure when he’ll get another chance at water.

He sits in a chair, pulling it toward Ash. Ash puts a hand on his shoulder and they just sit.

When the announcement comes over the PA that tributes are to be on their platforms, Dean stands. Ash directs him to the platform.

“It’s gonna raise you through some concrete, then up to the arena. Do _not_ step off the platform for the thirty seconds, Dean, it’ll blow you sky-high.”

“I know, I know,” Dean stutters out.

Ash nods, “Stay calm. Find Castiel, find water. Don’t worry about the cornucopia and the bow, okay Dean?”

Dean nods again, “Look, man, if this – if something h-happens… Can you, can you tell Sammy that I –“

Ash puts a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll tell him, son. Don’t worry about him. Worry about the Games, Dean. Good luck.”

Dean stands on the platform, gathering all of his strength. _Sammy will be watching_ , he tells himself. _Sammy’ll need you to be tough._

A glass tube lowers from the ceiling, trapping Dean on his platform. He takes another calming break, locking eyes with Ash. His stylist just nods as the platform raises Dean through the tube.

-

The first thing he notices is the sunlight. It’s so bright it hurts his eyes. He closes them for a second, adjusting. When his pupils have adjusted, Dean looks around.

Just as Ash predicted, the arena was _made_ for him. The woods, the rolling hills, hell even the _mountains_ off in the distance. It’s just like District 12, it’s like being at home.

He looks to the Cornucopia and zeroes in on the bow. It calls to him – he knows he can provide and protect Cas if he just has the bow.

He hears the counter countdown.

_20…_

He looks around the circle of tributes.

He sees the Leviathan boy from 1, Alistair from 2, the human girl – Bela? – from 5, a wendigo from 7, a werewolf…

 _And Cas_.

She’s directly across the circle from him, quivering in fear in a jacket that’s navy blue and almost too snug.

She finds him at the same time that Dean finds her. He sees her exhale in relief and look directly behind her. He nods.

_15…_

He looks back to the bow, trying to figure out how he could get down in there without Raphael (the angel from 4) tearing his head off.

_10…_

Bobby’s words echo in his mind. He needs to just run for the hills with Cas, not worry about a damn weapon.

_7…_

_6…_

_5…_

_4…_

Cas? The bow? Dean’s eyes frantically go back and forth.

_3…_

There’s no time to decide.

_2…_

_1…_

The buzzer sounds.

The Games have begun.


	7. fight or flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel can hear screaming in the distance as Alistair stands, backing away from his kill as Lilith drops the girl’s twitching body to the ground. After a few seconds, Castiel realizes the screaming is coming from her own mouth.
> 
> It takes everything she has to shut her mouth and grab the backpack.
> 
> But she’s too slow.
> 
> Lilith’s head snaps in her direction, Castiel sees Lilith reach into her belt and grab some knives – Castiel is sure that her fear covers her face.
> 
> She sees Lilith raise her hand, Castiel feels like she’s in slow motion.
> 
> Her brain recognizes that Lilith is about to throw a knife at her. Castiel’s fight-or-flight instinct takes over and Castiel chooses the choice that will most likely keep her alive.

At the sound of the buzzer, Castiel wastes no time, heading toward the shelter of the woods. She can hear the sound of flesh being ripped from bone, the screams of her fellow tributes. Some of them cry out in agony, screaming for someone to just go ahead and kill them. Castiel doesn’t dare look back – she knows she’ll lose her nerve and start screaming for Dean.

 _Dean_.

She hopes to some higher power that Bobby delivered her message, reminding Dean to retreat to the woods. They’ve only been near each other a few days but Castiel can already see the dangerous tracts that Dean’s mind operates on. Without a reminder of the stakes, Castiel knows Dean will head straight for a weapon.

Castiel is brought out of her thoughts and her sprint, barreling into the ground. She skids along the grass, noting a scrape along the exposed skin of her wrist. She exhales and quickly looks up, spotting the orange backpack that tripped her up. Her eyes dart around her, searching for another tribute or for something to defend herself with.

She sees none of that – she doesn’t even concentrate on the backpack at her feet.

All Castiel can see is pure _carnage_.

She’s read many books, detailing wars that her great-grandparent’s _grandparents_ weren’t even alive for. Most of them were fought crudely, with harsh weapons and torture. She’s read books about men laying bleeding in the street, begging passing women to kill them. She’s read books describing pain so great it gave her nightmares.

She’s read books about the Games, about Capitolites and their obsession with blood and guts and glory – reminding the Districts that they’re in charge and always will be. The Games were necessary – everyone in the districts knew that. She thought she understood, she thought she knew.

Nothing could have prepared her for this.

 _No part of this is necessary,_ is the only thought that comes to her mind.

The thirteen year old from district 6 looks at her with wide eyes from across the field. Her head is held up by Lilith yanking on her hair. Castiel can see the girl’s mouth open in a silent plea for mercy, but it falls on deaf ears as Alistair slices a knife across the girl’s throat.

Castiel can hear screaming in the distance as Alistair stands, backing away from his kill as Lilith drops the girl’s twitching body to the ground. After a few seconds, Castiel realizes the screaming is coming from _her_ own mouth.

It takes everything she has to shut her mouth and grab the backpack.

But she’s too slow.

Lilith’s head snaps in her direction, the same evil grin taking over her face. Castiel sees Lilith reach into her belt and grab some knives – she remembers how good Lilith was with the knives in the training center, and Castiel is sure that her fear covers her face.

She sees Lilith raise her hand, Castiel feels like she’s in slow motion.

Her brain recognizes that Lilith is about to _throw a knife at her_. Castiel’s fight-or-flight instinct takes over and Castiel chooses the choice that will most likely keep her alive.

She flees.

She runs toward the forest with the fleeting thought of staying in a straight line for Dean. She feels something hit the backpack with a _thud_ and thanks some higher power that Lilith’s knife hit the backpack instead of her neck, but she doesn’t stop running to check.

Castiel doesn’t stop until she is completely covered by the canopy of forest. She can’t even _hear_ the screams of tributes from the field, much less _see_ them. She keeps walking, determined to find a hiding place before she stops and examines the backpack.

When she crosses a stream an hour later, she decides she’s far enough away from the Cornucopia and the field to rest. She closes her eyes and reaches out her grace, trying to find any kind of creature in her radius. She doesn’t find any, but she stays cautious, worried that the Gamemakers have toyed with her grace.

A fallen tree sits just to her left, just short of the stream. Castiel sinks next to it, feeling the rough bark against her back, but the jacket she wears is thick enough that she doesn’t think she’ll get any splinters. She reaches the backpack off and is unsurprised to see two knives buried to the hilt. She takes them out and puts them in her own belt, smiling as she works.

“Thanks for the weapons,” she says to no one.

She unzips the backpack, finding some useful items. There’s a tube of matches, another full of wire very similar to the kind Dean taught her to use for snares, a small and bended needle, some thread, a tarp folded up, a rope that Castiel estimates at about 15 feet long, and two canteens – one empty and one full of water.

Castiel reaches her hand over the full canteen and works her grace over the water, purifying it. When she’s done, she takes a small sip, just barely testing it and saving it since she’s so close to a stream.

She sits back against the tree, touching the amulet Dean gave her, wondering what her next move should be. She had told Dean to find her, to head straight back into the woods and they would find each other but Castiel had no idea what the arena would even _look_ like until they got here. Hope diminishing, Castiel realizes that there really wasn’t a _true_ way to meet up with Dean. She knows she’ll be lucky if she even sees him again.

She decides to stay put until nightfall, then she’ll search out Dean’s dreams and let him know where to find her. Her only constriction during the Games is her ability to transport herself by means of angelic grace, so she assumes she’ll still be able to communicate with his dreams.

For the first time in five days, Castiel is finally able to _think_. She isn’t worried about how she is going to survive, Dean isn’t muddling her thoughts, and she isn’t being pressured to work with unfamiliar weapons to kill people she’s never had problems with.

And for the first time in five days, Castiel misses home.

She misses her sister, Anna, she misses her mother and father, she misses the bakery with the breads and cakes and cookies. She misses district 12 with its mountains in the distance and chilling air. She misses her friends, the comforts of a warm bed to sleep on and enough food at the bakery.

She feels tears start to well in her eyes and closes them, snapping herself back to attention. This isn’t a tea party, these are the Hunger Games, and there are cameras _everywhere_ , showing sponsors at home how vulnerable and weak she’s being. She remembers Ash’s advice about being strong, so she starts to think of things that made her strong.

 _Like Dean_.

Castiel can’t explain it, but Dean makes her feel strong.

Even now, when they’re separated, Castiel still feels the need to act stronger than she feels, just as if Dean were watching. Like… like, Jo Harvelle. Always so strong and silent, easily capturing Dean’s attention. But Jo is at home, probably curled up to Dean’s family while Castiel is in this hell hole and –

 _BOOM_.

Castiel shakes, looking up and all around in pure panic before it sounds again.

_BOOM. BOOM._

Castiel relaxes, remembering the canon that announces dead tributes. Of course – the canon doesn’t fire until the initial bloodbath is over.

Altogether, Castiel counts eight canon fires.

The girl from district 6 and seven more. She’ll see the fallen tributes in the sky tonight, courtesy of the Gamemakers, but she has a long time to wait to be sure that Dean isn’t on that list.

She sits for a few more minutes, trying to contemplate how to spend her time until Dean finds her, or how to hunt for something to eat. She decides she’s better off trying to gather some berries or something, so she draws back on the edible plants station that Dean practically made her memorize.

It takes longer than she would have imagined, but Castiel finally finds a blackberry bush about a half a mile from the fallen tree. She eats enough to keep her mind off of her stomach, keeping most of the blackberries in the empty canteen.

The sun starts to sink into the treeline – Castiel guesses it’s around 7 pm and that they’ve been in the arena since 2. She wishes she’d asked Bobby or Pamela what time the Games would begin, but she’d been too worried about surviving the bloodbath.

Castiel reaches her grace out again, trying to feel any presence. She feels a demon a quarter mile northwest, but ignores it. She pushes it as far as she can – at least the better part of a mile – and _still_ can’t feel Dean.

She lets a frustrated groan escape her lips, before sinking back to the ground.

Castiel is so caught up in her waiting that she doesn’t even notice the demon stepping into the clearing for a few seconds. Her eyes perk up, seeing the brunette directly across from her. Castiel holds her breath, hoping she’s not seen.

She recognizes the demon from the training center – the girl from 11. _Ruby_.

She watches Ruby look around, no backpack or weapon to be seen. Castiel considers calling out to her – after all, Dean _had_ mentioned wanting to ally with Ruby’s district partner. But she doesn’t, Castiel just watches.

Ruby sits against a tall oak, looking around again. Castiel wonders how the demon doesn’t see her, but she doesn’t question it.

After Ruby determines there’s no one around her, Castiel watches her wipe the sweat away from her face, looking more pale than Castiel remembers. It takes a while for Ruby to shed her dark jacket, hissing and grunting with every move. She wears a black teeshirt under the jacket – similar to the one Castiel has on. Castiel watches closely, narrowing her eyes as Ruby pulls up the teeshirt.

Castiel is surprised to see Ruby’s entire left side covered with blood. Ruby groans, leaning her head back against the tree.

Taken aback, Castiel leans back against her own tree.

She has choices.

Castiel can ignore Ruby’s labored breathing, letting her bleed out in a few hours and marking it down as one less competitor to victory. Castiel also knows she can walk to where Ruby’s sitting and easily bury the knife Lilith threw at her into Ruby’s throat.

She can become like every other monster that’s killing people in this arena with no cause.

She can let her father, mother, Anna and her kids, watch her become a violent killing machine.

A brief picture enters Castiel’s mind: one of her, dressed in clothes like at home, wearing her black skirt and white button down, her blue tie and trenchcoat, with Ruby’s blood dripping from her fingers and knife, wearing the same, bone-chilling grin that Lilith was earlier.

Castiel shudders – she _can’t_ become like them. She can’t kill out of anything but self-defense. She can’t even kill Ruby out of mercy.

She sighs – those are really her only options, kill or wait patiently.

She wonders what Dean would tell her. The sweet angel from District 12, killing a demon without cause on national TV.

Her head jerks up. Castiel is an angel – she can _heal_. It would be nothing to put her hand over Ruby’s side and heal her, making an ally. Of course, _someone_ would have to kill Ruby later in order for Castiel or Dean to go home, but Castiel can’t listen to Ruby’s labored breaths anymore as the life drains from her.

She groans. She knows Dean will chastise her whenever they find each other, but Castiel can’t bear to let Ruby suffer any longer.

The contents of the backpack are easily pulled together and zip up nicely inside the backpack. It’s a bright color – bright enough to get noticed in the woods – so Castiel makes a mental note to put some mud or something on it. She slings it over her shoulder, quietly walking toward where Ruby sits, covered in sweat and blood.

Castiel raises her hands as she comes into Ruby’s sight. She sees the demon tense, eyes flashing black as she raises the knife with her right hand, Castiel can see dried blood on the hilt, she assumes this is what injured Ruby.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Castiel gently whispers.

“Bullshit,” Ruby spits, blood starting to bubble at her lips. “Don’t know if you noticed, angel cake, but this is the _Hunger Games_ , everybody’s here to hurt everybody else.”

Castiel just nods before taking a step further. Ruby’s black eyes follow her, still toting the knife. “Let me heal you,” Castiel whispers again.

Ruby’s eyes narrow, flashing black to their normal color. “Why?”

Castiel smiles, “So we can be allies.”

“Allies?”

“Yes,” Castiel nods. “Dean wanted you and your district partner before this even started.”

Ruby scoffs, “Benny? That guy’s a nightmare.”

Castiel shrugs, “Either way, you don’t have long. Let me heal you, Ruby.”

Ruby gives her one more look, and Castiel can tell she’s still debating. Finally, she nods to Castiel and waves her knife, “I’m still keeping this.”

Castiel gives her a smile before reaching down to Ruby’s blood-covered side. She gently touches the skin, her grace detecting the infection and damaged nerves and tissue. Castiel closes her eyes, letting her grace seep through her pores and expel from her fingers, pressing into Ruby’s wound.

Ruby makes a gagging noise as Castiel’s grace reconnects the fibers, the tissue, the muscles, the nerves. When she’s finished, Ruby sits back with a gasp. She pulls up her shirt, inspecting the just-as-new skin.

“You really healed me,” she breathes, looking up at Castiel.

Castiel nods, “I told you I was going to.”

“Can’t say I believed you,” Ruby grumbles. She takes Castiel’s hand, letting her pull the demon to her feet. “Not many people would’ve done that.”

Castiel solemnly nods, “The Games have a way of bringing out the worst in a person.”

“Never seen death and carnage before, have ya, angel?” Ruby chuckles.

“No. District 12 isn’t notorious for things like that.”

Ruby chuckles again, “It’s nothing for a fight to break out in 11 or for that fight to be solved with fists.”

Castiel shrugs.

Ruby looks her up and down – her stare makes Castiel feel more uncomfortable than she’d like to admit. “Allies, huh?”

Castiel nods, “I need to find Dean.”

Ruby raises her eyebrows, looking around the clearing. “Riiiiight.”

“Did you drink from the stream?”

Ruby nods, “But I haven’t ate anything.”

“In the backpack, one of the canteens has some berries inside. Should hold you off until we can hunt something,” Castiel explains, turning around.

She feels Ruby rummage through the backpack, suddenly stopping. “How’d you score the knives?”

“Lilith thought I needed new decoration.”

Ruby chuckles, stuffing her mouth with the berries and zipping the backpack back. Castiel starts walking north – Ruby pauses for a second before following.

“What are you doing?”

Castiel glances at her before looking ahead, “Following the stream.”

“Why?” Ruby snaps, pulling Castiel’s shoulder. “We can hide here during the Career pack’s hunt tonight. This is plenty safe.”

Castiel looks around the clearing, nodding in agreement. “That’s true.”

“So why don’t we stay?”

“Because I have to find Dean.”

Ruby straightens up, “You’re willing to risk _our_ lives to track down your boyfriend or whatever?”

Castiel nods.

Ruby rolls her eyes, “That’s stupid even for an angel.”

“Look,” Castiel huffs, “Dean and I had an arrangement: as soon as the Games started, I would head straight behind my plate and wait for him, he’d find me as soon as he could. It’s getting dark and I’ve been here all day. He hasn’t found me yet.”

“So you wait for him!” Ruby interjects.

Castiel shakes her head, “No, Dean’s probably been looking for me all day, which means he hasn’t been looking for water, so I guarantee that water is his next objective. If I follow the water back toward where his plate was, I’ll find him.”

Ruby rolls her eyes again, “I did not sign on for this.”

“No, but I _did_ heal you,” Castiel says, grabbing Ruby’s shoulder and narrowing her glare, “I can _un_ -heal you just as easily. You’re my ally, which means you’re Dean’s ally. And we need to find our ally.”

Ruby takes a deep breath, pushing Castiel’s hands off of her shoulder, “Fine, fine. Let’s go find your boyfriend.”

Castiel starts to tell Ruby that Dean is not, in fact, her boyfriend, but she just lets the comment go. Maybe her parents chuckled back at home. She takes a deep breath, letting Ruby lead the way down the stream.

-

A few hours later, the sun threatens to sink low into the treeline. Ruby once again checks her side, still amazed that the several-inches-deep wound is magically gone.

“You know,” she remarks, “I’ve never been healed by an angel before. Feels weird.”

Castiel chuckles as she scans the trees. She thinks she can get into one to her left, but she can’t just zap herself up there, so she’s not completely sure. “The tingle will go away soon.”

Ruby takes her answer and starts climbing into one of the trees, “Make sure you pick one that you’ll be able to see the fallen tributes.”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer,” Castiel muses to herself.

She’s more than confident that Dean’s picture won’t be in the sky tonight… but there’s a small edge on her confidence, just a small edge of doubt that comes in the form of Dean’s lifeless body being carried away from the arena.

Shaking her head, Castiel starts to climb the same tree that Ruby’s already in. “Are you sure it won’t be easier to hide on the ground?”

Ruby nods, “Careers are idiots. As long as we’re quiet and don’t fall out of the damn thing, we should be fine.”

Castiel just nods, taking a branch where she can sit comfortably, see the sky, and see Ruby.

“You didn’t tell me how you got injured.”

“Eh,” Ruby shrugs, “part of the Games, I guess.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, “That knife wound was pretty deep. I highly doubt that Lilith tagged you with it in the bloodbath.”

Ruby studies her, finally sighing. “You and Dean had some kind of deal worked out, right? You’d meet up in the woods?”

When Castiel nods, Ruby goes on. “Well, Benny and I had something lined up like that too – since we weren’t ‘star-crossed lovers’, they put us pretty close to each other on the plates. Anyway, we took off running back toward the trees, like you, and Benny grabbed a backpack.”

“What was in it?”

“The knife, some string, basic stuff,” Ruby shrugs. “But Benny says the first thing we need to find is water, so we start looking for it. Benny worked in the fields back in 11, so he said he could tell the signs.”

Ruby sighs, “But when we found it, Benny decided to double cross me. As soon as I bent down toward the stream to drink, he tried holding my head underwater.”

Castiel gasps, “But _why_?”

Ruby chuckles, “Somebody’s gotta go home, right?”

Castiel looks down at the ground, “So when he couldn’t drown you, he tried to stab you?”

“Yep,” Ruby says. “I kicked him and managed to get away, but only barely.”

Castiel opens her mouth to say something else, but she’s interrupted by the anthem of Panem. It blares loud over the trees and mountains, echoing into the distance.

Castiel turns her eyes toward the skies, looking for the place where the tributes faces will be displayed. She clutches the amulet around her neck, hoping it gives some kind of luck that Dean’s face isn’t in the sky tonight.

The first picture is of the croatoan from district 5.

The girl from 6 that Castiel saw Lilith and Alistair kill.

Her district partner, the shifter.

Both wendigos from 7.

A human girl from 8.

A werewolf boy from 9.

A human boy from 10.

The sky goes dark, the anthem silent.

“Looks like loverboy lives to fight another day,” Ruby smirks from her branch.

Castiel exhales breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Yeah, I guess so.”


End file.
